A Well-bred Man Is Always Sociable And

Every Movement Reveals Us.

All General Judgments Are Loose And Imperfect

What We Are Told Of The Inhabitants Of Brazil, That They Never Die But Of Old Age, Is Attributed To The Tranquility And Serenity Of Their Climate; I Rather Attribute It To The Tranquility And Serenity Of Their Souls, Which Are Free From All Passion, Thought, Or Any Absorbing And Unpleasant Labors. Those People Spend Their Lives In An Admirable Simplicity And Ignorance, Without Letters, Without Law, Without King, Without Any Manner Of Religion.

We Have No Participation In Being, Because All Human Nature Is Ever Midway Between Being Born And Dying, Giving Off Only A Vague Image And Shadow Of Itself, And A Weak And Uncertain Opinion. And If You Chance To Fix Your Thoughts On Trying To Grasp Its Essence, It Would Be Neither More Nor Less Than If Your Tried To Clutch Water.

Other Passions Have Objects To Flatter Them, And Seem To Content And Satisfy Them For A While; There Is Power In Ambition, Pleasure In Luxury, And Pelf In Covetousness; But Envy Can Gain Nothing But Vexation.