If ... The Past May Be No

I Do Not Think A Philosopher Who Would Apply Himself So Earnestly To The Explaining The Ultimate Principles Of The Soul, Would Show Himself A Great Master In The Very Science Of Human Nature, Which He Pretends To Explain, Or Very Knowing In What Is Naturally Satisfactory To The Mind Of Man.

It Is With Books As With Women, Where A Certain Plainness Of Manner And Of Dress Is More Engaging Than That Glare Of Paint And Airs And Apparel Which May Dazzle The Eye, But Reaches Not The Affections.

Nothing Is More Dangerous To Reason Than The Flights Of The Imagination And Nothing Has Been The Occasion Of More Mistakes Among Philosophers.

Were A Stranger To Drop On A Sudden Into This World, I Would Show Him, As A Specimen Of Its Ills, A Hospital Full Of Diseases, A Prison Crowded With Malefactors And Debtors, A Field Of Battle Strewed With Carcasses, A Fleet Foundering In The Ocean, A Nation Languishing Under Tyranny, Famine, Or Pestilence. To Turn The Gay Side Of Life To Him, And Give Him A Notion Of Its Pleasures; Whither Should I Conduct Him? To A Ball, To An Opera, To Court? He Might Justly Think, That I Was Only Showing Him A Diversity Of Distress And Sorrow.

The Simplest And Most Obvious Cause Which Can There Be Assigned For Any Phenomena, Is Probably The True One.