A Broken Heart Is A Distemper Which

Want Compassion Is Not To Be Numbered Among The General Faults Of Mankind. The Black Ingredient Which Fouls Our Disposition Is Envy. Hence Our Eyes, It Is To Be Feared, Are Seldom Turned Up To Those Who Are Manifestly Greater, Better, Wiser, Or Happier Than Ourselves, Without Some Degree Of Malignity, We Commonly Look Downward On The Mean And Miserable With Sufficient Benevolence And Pity.

Distance Of Time And Place Do Really Cure What They Seem To Aggravate; And Taking Leave Of Our Friends Resembles Taking Leave Of The World, Concerning Which It Hath Been Often Said, That It Is Not Death But Dying Which Is Terrible.

Habit Hath So Vast A Prevalence Over The Human Mind That There Is Scarce Anything Too Strange Or Too Strong To Be Asserted Of It. The Story Of The Miser Who, From Long Accustoming To Cheat Others, Came At Last To Cheat Himself, And With Great Delight And Triumph Picked His Own Pocket Of A Guinea To Convey To His Hoard, Is Not Impossible Or Improbable.

Sensuality Not Only Debases Both Body And Mind, But Dulls The Keen Edge Of Pleasure.

For Nothing Can Be More Reasonable, Than That Slaves And Flatterers Should Exact The Same Taxes On All Below Them, Which They Themselves Pay To All Above Them.