All Envy Would Be Extinguished, If It

Philosophy Has Often Attempted To Repress Insolence By Asserting That All Conditions Are Leveled By Death; A Position Which, However It May Defect The Happy, Will Seldom Afford Much Comfort To The Wretched.

Every Desire Is A Viper In The Bosom, Who While He Was Chill Was Harmless; But When Warmth Gave Him Strength, Exerted It In Poison.

The Eye Of The Mind, Like That Of The Body, Can Only Extend Its View To New Objects, By Losing Sight Of Those Which Are Now Before It.

Men Who Have Flattered Themselves Into This Opinion Of Their Own Abilities, Look Down On All Who Waste Their Lives Over Books, As A Race Of Inferior Beings Condemned By Nature To Perpetual Pupilage, And Fruitlessly Endeavouring To Remedy Their Barrenness By Incessant Cultivation, Or Succour Their Feebleness By Subsidiary Strength. They Presume That None Would Be More Industrious Than They, If They Were Not More Sensible Of Deficiences; And Readily Conclude, That He Who Places No Confidence In His Own Powers Owes His Modesty Only To His Weakness.

Little Would Be Wanting To The Happiness Of Life, If Every Man Could Conform To The Right As Soon As He Was Shown It.