The nature of things is so fixed in every particular, that they are
very weak, superstitious people, who think that it can be altered.
But besides the impossibility of producing a change by foolish
importunities, they who employ much of their time in that way, instead
of getting, are sure to lose in the end. When any man is so silly and
vexatious as to make unreasonable complaints, and to harbour undue
repinings in his heart, his peevishness will lessen the real good which
he possesses, and the sourness of his temper shorten that allowance
of comfort which he already thinks too scanty. Thus, in truth, it is
not Providence, but ourselves, who punish our own importunity, in
soliciting for impossibilities, with a sharp corroding care, which
abridges us of some part of that little pleasure which Heaven has cast
into our lot.
Happy the man without a wish for more,
Who quietly enjoys his little store,
And knows to heaven, with gratitude to pay
Thanks for what’s given, and what is ta’en away.
[Illustration]
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