There is nothing to be said in favour of fashion, and yet how many are
contented implicitly to obey its commands: its rules are not even dictated
by the standard of taste, for it is constantly running into extremes and
condemns one day what it approves the next.
There are some people so incorrigibly stupid and prosing, that wherever
they are anxious of securing respect, silence would be their best policy.
As we advance in age, it is singular what a revolution takes place in our
feelings. When we arrive at maturity an unkind word is more cutting and
distresses us more than any bodily suffering; in our youth it was the
reverse.
There is nothing so ravishing to the proud and the great (with all their
resources for enjoyment) as to be thought happy by their inferiors.
Such are the casualties of life, that the presentiment of fear is far
wiser than that of hope; and it would seem at all times more prudent to be
providing against accident, than laying out schemes of future happiness.
The character of any particular people may be looked for with best success
in their national works of talent.
There is no absurdity in approving as well as condemning the same
individual; for as few people are always in the right, so on the other
hand it is improbable they should be always in the wrong.
The most elegant flattery is at second hand; viz., to repeat over again
the praises bestowed by others.
Ignorance, simple, helpless ignorance, is not to be imputed as a fault;
but very often men are wilfully ignorant.
We have fewer enemies than we imagine: many are too indolent to care at
all about us, and if the stream of censure is running against us, the
world is too careless to oppose it. If we could hear what is said of us in
our absence we should torment ourselves without real cause, for we should
seldom hear the real sentiments of the speaker; many things are said in
mere wantonness, and many more from the desire of being brilliant.
The man who feels he is in the right is seldom dogmatical, for truth is
always calm and requires not violence to enforce her arguments: we should
desist from the contest the moment we feel anxious about victory, because
that anxiety must make us less particular about the truth.
Quickness of intellect is no proof of solidity: the deepest rivers flow on
the smoothest.
The reason why there are so few instances of heroism in modern times is
the total decay of political virtue: we are broken up into small parties
and associate only with our families, thus forgetting the public, in our
regard for private interest: the ancients were taught rather to live for
the benefit of the whole community.
An over-refined philosophy begets sensitiveness, and is as little to be
coveted as a moderate share of it is beneficial.
It seems to be the business of life to lay by fresh cause for anxiety and
discontent by increasing our estate; whereas we should rather know how to
lose it all, and yet be contented.
There are some people, who though very amiable in the main, and obliging
in their offices to others, have yet that most unhappy propensity of being
gloomy over every thing.
It is one of the wisest provisions of Fortune that the same vices which
ruin our estates, take away also the means of enjoying them by depriving
us of health.
There is more virtue in obscurity than is commonly supposed; and perhaps
there have been nobler specimens of magnanimity in low life, than even the
page of history can boast.
Knowledge of the world must be combined with study, for this, as well as
better reasons: the possession of learning is always invidious, and it
requires considerable tact to inform without a display of superiority, and
to ensure esteem, as well as call forth admiration.
Deceit has the effect of impoverishing, as well as enriching, men: the
prodigal becomes poor by pretending to be richer than he really is, while
seeming poverty is the very making of a miser.