others, though not exactly mortal, are such as may be observed and felt without much study; finally, there are some that are hardly recognizable without a microscope. But then they look perfectly awful. This microscope is—hypochondria. I believe that if men were really to set themselves to study these microscopical diseases, they would have the satisfaction of being ill every day of their lives.
We are lost if we get too much time to think about ourselves, provided that we regard ourselves not as an object of study, as a specimen, but always as everything that we now are. We become conscious of so much that is sad that at the thought of it we lose all inclination to bring the elements into order and connection.
So long as we think that we can credit ourselves with some subtle application of a knowledge of human nature, and imagine that only the initiated are capable of such penetration into others’ hearts, we are loth to give up false opinions about people. There are in consequence few branches of human knowledge in which half-knowledge does more mischief than in this one.
I suppose there is not a man in the world who, when he becomes a knave for the sake of a thousand dollars, would not rather have remained an honest man for half the money.
He who says he hates all kinds of flattery, and
