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Better is a handful with tranquility
    than two handfuls of toil
    and striving after the wind.

Again I saw something futile under the sun:
There is one who has no one else,
neither son nor brother,
yet there is no end to all his toil.
His eyes are not content with riches.
“So, for whom am I toiling,
and depriving myself of prosperity?”
This too is meaningless—
a grievous task!

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