Μάτην ἡμῖν τὰ πάντα πονεῖται, ὦ Κύρτων, δι’ ἡμέρας μὲν ὑπὸ τῆς εἵλης φλεγομένοις νύκτωρ δὲ ὑπὸ λαμπάσι τὸν βυθὸν ἀποξύουσι, καὶ τὸ λεγόμενον δὴ τοῦτο εἰς τὸν τῶν Δαναΐδων τοὺς ἀμφορέας ἐκχέομεν πίθον· οὕτως ἄπρακτα καὶ ἀνήνυτα διαμοχθοῦμεν.
(Alciphron, Epist. 1.2.1)

All of our work is for nothing, Kyrton. By day we are burnt by the heat of the sun, and at night we scrape at the abyss by torchlight, emptying our amphorae into the jar of the Danaids, as the saying goes. That’s how unprofitable and endless our labour is. (tr. Jason König)