The Nature Of Things Is, I Admit,

Men Love To Hear Of Their Power, But Have An Extreme Disrelish To Be Told Their Duty.

It Is By Sympathy We Enter Into The Concerns Of Others, That We Are Moved As They Are Moved, And Are Never Suffered To Be Indifferent Spectators Of Almost Anything Which Men Can Do Or Suffer. For Sympathy May Be Considered As A Sort Of Substitution, By Which We Are Put Into The Place Of Another Man, And Affected In Many Respects As He Is Affected.

The Starry Heaven, Though It Occurs So Very Frequently To Our View, Never Fails To Excite An Idea Of Grandeur. This Cannot Be Owing To The Stars Themselves, Separately Considered. The Number Is Certainly The Cause. The Apparent Disorder Augments The Grandeur, For The Appearance Of Care Is Highly Contrary To Our Ideas Of Magnificence. Besides, The Stars Lie In Such Apparent Confusion, As Makes It Impossible On Ordinary Occasions To Reckon Them. This Gives Them The Advantage Of A Sort Of Infinity.

When Any Work Seems To Have Required Immense Force And Labor To Effect It, The Idea Is Grand.

Good Company, Lively Conversation, And The Endearments Of Friendship Fill The Mind With Great Pleasure.