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Nothing makes sense! Everything is nonsense. All is vanity!
What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?
People come, and people go, but still the world never changes.
All of life is far more boring than words could ever say. Our eyes and ears are never satisfied with what we see and hear.
What has been is what will be, and whats been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun.
For in much wisdom is much vexation, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.
What has a man from all the toil and striving of a heart with which he toils beneath the sun?
For all his days are full of sorrow, and his work is a vexation. Even in the night his heart does not rest. This also is vanity.
All go to one place. All are from the dust, and to dust all return.
For who knows what is good for man while he lives his few days of vain life, which he passes like shadow? For who can tell man what will be after him under the sun?
Sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness of face the heart is made glad.
A sensible person mourns, but fools always laugh.
For as the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fools; this also is vanity.

Bits and pieces from here and there.