Envy Lurks At The Bottom Of The

All Men Can Bear A Familiar, Definite Misfortune Better Than The Cruel Alternations Of A Fate Which, From One Moment To Another, Brings Excessive Joy Or Sorrow.

With Every One, The Expectation Of A Misfortune Constitutes A Dreadful, Punishment. Suffering Then Assumes The Proportions Of The Unknown, Which Is The Soul's Infinite.

In All Lands, Sailors Form A Race Apart. They Profess A Congenital Contempt For Landlubbers. As For The Tradesman, He Understands Nothing Of Sailors Nor Cares A Fig About Them. He Is Content To Rob Them If He Can.

Fools Gain Greater Advantages Through Their Weakness Than Intelligent Men Through Their Strength. We Watch A Great Man Struggling Against Fate And We Do Not Lift A Finger To Help Him. But We Patronize A Grocer Who Is Headed For Bankruptcy.

Virtue, Perhaps, Is Nothing More Than Politeness Of Soul.