It Is Not Indeed Certain, That The

If A Man Could Say Nothing Against A Character But What He Can Prove, History Could Not Be Written.

That The Happiness Of Man May Still Remain Imperfect, As Wants In This Place Are Easily Supplied, New Wants Likewise Are Easily Created; Every Man, In Surveying The Shops Of London, Sees Numberless Instruments And Conveniencies, Of Which, While He Did Not Know Them, He Never Felt The Need; And Yet, When Use Has Made Them Familiar, Wonders How Life Could Be Supported Without Them. Thus It Comes To Pass, That Our Desires Always Increase With Our Possessions; The Knowledge That Something Remains Yet Unenjoyed, Impairs Our Enjoyment Of The Good Before Us.

Every Man Is Rich Or Poor According To The Proportion Between His Desires And His Enjoyments.

I Soon Found That Wit, Like Every Other Power, Has Its Boundaries; That Its Success Depends Upon The Aptitude Of Others To Receive Impressions; And That As Some Bodies, Indissoluble By Heat, Can Set The Furnace And Crucible At Defiance, There Are Min

There Is Reason To Suspect, That The Distinctions Of Mankind Have More Show Than Value, When It Is Found That All Agree To Be Weary Alike Of Pleasures And Of Cares; That The Powerful And The Weak, The Celebrated And Obscure, Join In One Common Wish, And Implore From Nature's Hand The Nectar Of Oblivion.