A Misery Is Not To Be Measure

To A Man Of Pleasure Every Moment Appears To Be Lost, Which Partakes Not Of The Vivacity Of Amusement.

There Is A Kind Of Grandeur And Respect Which The Meanest And Most Insignificant Part Of Mankind Endeavor To Procure In The Little Circle Of Their Friends And Acquaintance. The Poorest Mechanic, Nay, The Man Who Lives Upon Common Alms, Gets Him His Set Of Admirers, And Delights In That Superiority Which He Enjoys Over Those Who Are In Some Respects Beneath Him. This Ambition, Which Is Natural To The Soul Of Man, Might, Methinks, Receive A Very Happy Turn; And, If It Were Rightly Directed, Contribute As Much To A Person's Advantage, As It Generally Does To His Uneasiness And Disquiet.

The Hours Of A Wise Man Are Lengthened By His Ideas, As Those Of A Fool Are By His Passions. The Time Of The One Is Long, Because He Does Not Know What To Do With It; So Is That Of The Other, Because He Distinguishes Every Moment Of It With Useful Or Amusing Thoughts--or, In Other Words, Because The One Is Always Wishing It Away, And The Other Always Enjoying It.

It Is A Great Presumption To Ascribe Our Successes To Our Own Management, And Not To Esteem Ourselves Upon Any Blessing, Rather As It Is The Bounty Of Heaven, Than The Acquisition Of Our Own Prudence.

Why Will Any Man Be So Impertinently Officious As To Tell Me All Prospect Of A Future State Is Only Fancy And Delusion? Is There Any Merit In Being The Messenger Of Ill News. If It Is A Dream, Let Me Enjoy It, Since It Makes Me Both The Happier And Better Man.