You Can Be Pleased With Nothing If

To Always Be Loved One Must Ever Be Agreeable.

The Pious Farmer, Who Ne'er Misses Pray'rs, With Patience Suffers Unexpected Rain; He Blesses Heav'n For What Its Bounty Spares, And Sees, Resign'd, A Crop Of Blighted Grain. But, Spite Of Sermons, Farmers Would Blaspheme, If A Star Fell To Set Their Thatch On Flame.

It's In No Way My Interest (according To The Common Acceptance Of That Word) To Convince The World Of Their Errors; That Is, I Shall Get Nothing From It But The Private Satisfaction Of Having Done Good To Mankind, And I Know Nobody That Reckons That Satisfaction Any Part Of Their Interest.

Miserable Is The Fate Of Writers: If They Are Agreeable, They Are Offensive; And If Dull, They Starve.

... If It Were The Fashion To Go Naked, The Face Would Be Hardly Observed.