I never knew any man in my life who could not bear another's misfortunes perfectly like a Christian.

Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish or a sparrow fall, Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd, And now a bubble burst, and now a world.

No Senses stronger than his brain can bear. Why has not Man a microscopic eye? For this plain reason, Man is not a Fly: What the advantage, if his finer eyes Study a Mite, not comprehend the Skies?... Or quick Effluvia darting thro' his brain, Die of a Rose, in Aromatic pain? If Nature thunder'd in his opening ears, And stunn'd him with the music of the Spheres... Who finds not Providence all-good and wise, Alike in what it gives, and what denies?

Never elated when someone's oppressed, never dejected when another one's blessed.

All nature mourns, the skies relent in showers; hushed are the birds, and closed the drooping flowers.

Those oft are stratagems which errors seem Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.

Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.