The Great Charm Of Poetry

A Man Who Has Cured Himself Of All Ridiculous Prepossessions, And Is Fully, Sincerely, And Steadily Convinced, From Experience As Well As Philosophy, That The Difference Of Fortune Makes Less Difference In Happiness Than Is Vulgarly Imagined; Such A One Does Not Measure Out Degrees Of Esteem According To The Rent-rolls Of His Acquaintance. ... His Internal Sentiments Are More Regulated By The Personal Characters Of Men, Than By The Accidental And Capricious Favors Of Fortune.

All Sentiment Is Right; Because Sentiment Has A Reference To Nothing Beyond Itself, And Is Always Real, Wherever A Man Is Conscious Of It. But All Determinations Of The Understanding Are Not Right; Because They Have A Reference To Something Beyond Themselves, To Wit, Real Matter Of Fact; And Are Not Always Conformable To That Standard.

To Hate, To Love, To Think, To Feel, To See; All This Is Nothing But To Perceive.

All Knowledge Degenerates Into Probability.

When Anyone Tells Me That He Saw A Dead Man Restored To Life, I Immediately Consider With Myself Whether It Be More Probable That This Person Should Either Deceive Or Be Deceived Or That The Fact Which He Relates Should Really Have Happened. I Weigh The One Miracle Against The Other And According To The Superiority Which I Discover, I Pronounce My Decision. Always I Reject The Greater Miracle. If The Falsehood Of His Testimony Would Be More Miraculous Than The Event Which He Relates, Then And Not Till Then, Can He Pretend To Command My Belief Or Opinion.