Jerome

I did not sit in the council of the jesters, and I boasted (or feared) from the face of your hand: I sat alone, for you filled me with bitterness ((Vulgate: threat)). Why has my pain become perpetual (or why do those who distress me, find comfort) and my incurable wound refuse to be healed (or my strong wound, from where shall I be cured)? It has become to me like the falsehood of unfaithful waters (or like water that deceives and lacks faith). …

Commentary on Jeremiah ↗