“What are mortals anyway, that you bother with them,
that you even give them the time of day?
That you check up on them every morning,
looking in on them to see how they’re doing?
Let up on me, will you?
Can’t you even let me spit in peace?
Even suppose I’d sinned—how would that hurt you?
You’re responsible for every human being.
Don’t you have better things to do than pick on me?
Why make a federal case out of me?
Why don’t you just forgive my sins
and start me off with a clean slate?
The way things are going, I’ll soon be dead.
You’ll look high and low, but I won’t be around.”