The Unhappy Of All Men Is He

Where Is The Reward Of Virtue? And What Recompense Has Nature Provided For Such Important Sacrifices As Those Of Life And Fortune, Which We Must Often Make To It? O Sons Of Earth! Are Ye Ignorant Of The Value Of This Celestial Mistress? And Do Ye Meanly Inquire For Her Portion, When Ye Observe Her Genuine Beauty?

It Is Not Contrary To Reason To Prefer The Destruction Of The Whole World To The Scratching Of My Finger. It Is Not Contrary To Reason For Me To Choose My Total Ruin, To Prevent The Least Uneasiness Of An Indian, Or Person Wholly Unknown To Me. It Is As Little Contrary To Reason To Prefer Even My Own Acknowledged Lesser Good To My Greater, And Have A More Ardent Affection For The Former Than The Latter.

What Peculiar Privilege Has This Little Agitation Of The Brain Which We Call Thought, That We Must Thus Make It The Model Of The Whole Universe? Our Partiality In Our Own Favour Does Indeed Present It On All Occasions; But Sound Philosophy Ought Carefully To Guard Against So Natural An Illusion.

A Propensity To Hope And Joy Is Real Riches; One To Fear And Sorrow Real Poverty.

I Say Then, That Belief Is Nothing But A More Vivid, Lively, Forcible, Firm, Steady Conception Of An Object, Than What The Imagination Alone Is Ever Able To Attain. This Variety Of Terms, Which May Seem So Unphilosophical, Is Intended Only To Express That Act Of The Mind, Which Renders Realities, Or What Is Taken For Such, More Present To Us Than Fictions, Causes Them To Weigh More In The Thought, And Gives Them A Superior Influence On The Passions And Imagination.