Luxury! More Perilous To Youth Than Storms

My Retirement Was Now Become Solitude; The Former Is, I Believe, The Best State For The Mind Of Man, The Latter Almost The Worst. In Complete Solitude, The Eye Wants Objects, The Heart Wants Attachments, The Understanding Wants Reciprocation. The Character Loses Its Tenderness When It Has Nothing To Strengthen It, Its Sweetness When It Has Nothing To Soothe It.

Since Trifles Make The Sum Of Human Things, And Half Our Misery From Our Foibles Springs; Since Life's Best Joys Consist In Peace And Ease, And Though But Few Can Serve, Yet All May Please; On, Let Th' Ungentle Spirit Learn From Hence, A Small Unkindness Is A Great Offence.

It May Be In Morals As It Is In Optics, The Eye And The Object May Come Too Close To Each Other, To Answer The End Of Vision. There Are Certain Faults Which Press Too Near Our Self-love To Be Even Perceptible To Us.

I Used To Wonder Why People Should Be So Fond Of The Company Of Their Physician, Till I Recollected That He Is The Only Person With Whom One Dares To Talk Continually Of Oneself, Without Interruption, Contradiction Or Censure; I Suppose That Delightful Immunity Doubles Their Fees.

The Ubiquity Of The Divine Presence Is The Only True Support, And I Am Sometimes Astonished How Persons, Who Evidently Do Not Possess That Grand Source Of Consolation, Keep Up Their Spirits Under Trials And Difficulties. It Must Be Owing To Careless Tempers And Nerves Of Brass.