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The Answer from the Whirlwind: The Revelation of Liwyathan
Canst thou draw out Liwyathan with an hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down?
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Canst thou put an hook into his nose? or bore his jaw through with a thorn?
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Will he make many supplications unto thee? will he speak soft words unto thee?
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Will he make a covenant with thee? wilt thou take him for a servant for ever?
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Wilt thou play with him as with a bird? or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?
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Shall the companions make a banquet of him? shall they part him among the merchants?
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Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons? or his head with fish spears?
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Lay thine hand upon him, remember the battle, do no more.
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Behold, the hope of him is in vain: shall not one be cast down even at the sight of him?
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The Impossibility of Standing Before the Creator
None is so fierce that dare stir him up: who then is able to stand before me?
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Who hath prevented me, that I should repay him? whatsoever is under the whole heaven is mine.
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The Anatomy of the Adversarial Matrix
I will not conceal his parts, nor his power, nor his comely proportion.
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Who can discover the face of his garment? or who can come to him with his double bridle?
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Who can open the doors of his face? his teeth are terrible round about.
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The Impenetrable Perimeter
His scales are his pride, shut up together as with a close seal.
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One is so near to another, that no air can come between them.
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They are joined one to another, they stick together, that they cannot be sundered.
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The Ignition of the Fire
By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.
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Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out.
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Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a seething pot or caldron.
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His breath kindleth coals, and a flame goeth out of his mouth.
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In his neck remaineth strength, and sorrow is turned into joy before him.
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The flakes of his flesh are joined together: they are firm in themselves; they cannot be moved.
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His heart is as firm as a stone; yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone.
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The Terror of the Mighty
When he raiseth up himself, the mighty are afraid: by reason of breakings they purify themselves.
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The Futility of Human Weapons
The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold: the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon.
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He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood.
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The arrow cannot make him flee: slingstones are turned with him into stubble.
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Darts are counted as stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.
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Sharp stones are under him: he spreadeth sharp pointed things upon the mire.
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The Boiling of the Deep
He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: he maketh the sea like a pot of ointment.
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He maketh a path to shine after him; one would think the deep to be hoary.
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The King Over the Children of Pride
Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without fear.
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He beholdeth all high things: he is a king over all the children of pride.