From Bard, To Bard, The

To Grieve For Evils Is Often Wrong; But It Is Much More Wrong To Grieve Without Them. All Sorrow That Lasts Longer Than Its Cause Is Morbid, And Should Be Shaken Off As An Attack Of Melancholy, As The Forerunner Of A Greater Evil Than Poverty Or Pain.

Such Is The State Of Every Age, Every Sex, And Every Condition: All Have Their Cares, Either From Nature Or From Folly; And Whoever, Therefore, Finds Himself Inclined To Envy Another, Should Remember That He Knows Not The Real Condition Which He Desires To Obtain, But Is Certain That By Indulging A Vicious Passion, He Must Lessen That Happiness Which He Thinks Already Too Sparingly Bestowed.

The Most Fatal Disease Of Friendship Is Gradual Decay, Or Dislike Hourly Increased By Causes Too Slender For Complaint, And Too Numerous For Removal.

The Truth Is That The Spectators Are Always In Their Senses, And Know, From The First Act To The Last, That The Stage Is Only A Stage, And That The Players Are Only Players.

I Had Done All That I Could, And No Man Is Well Pleased To Have His All Neglected, Be It Ever So Little.