When thou with rebukes dost correct man for iniquity, thou makest his beauty to consume away like a moth: surely every man is vanity. Selah.

How much less in them that dwell in houses of clay, whose foundation is in the dust, which are crushed before the moth?

I am a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls. My skin is black upon me, and my bones are burned with heat.

Therefore will I be unto Ephraim as a moth, and to the house of Judah as rottenness.

My bones are pierced in me in the night season: and my sinews take no rest. By the great force of my disease is my garment changed: it bindeth me about as the collar of my coat. He hath cast me into the mire, and I am become like dust and ashes.

Let her not be as one dead, of whom the flesh is half consumed when he cometh out of his mother's womb.