Maxioms by Joseph Addison
It must be so--Plato, thou reasonest well!--
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing read more
It must be so--Plato, thou reasonest well!--
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?
Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror,
O falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction?
'Tis the divinity that stirs within us;
'Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man.
Mysterious love, uncertain treasure,
Hast thou more of pain or pleasure!
. . . .
read more
Mysterious love, uncertain treasure,
Hast thou more of pain or pleasure!
. . . .
Endless torments dwell above thee:
Yet who would live, and live without thee!
My death and life,
My bane and antidote, are both before me.
My death and life,
My bane and antidote, are both before me.
On you, my lord, with anxious fear I wait,
And from your judgment must expect my fate.
On you, my lord, with anxious fear I wait,
And from your judgment must expect my fate.
Were not this desire of fame very strong, the difficulty of
obtaining it, and the danger of losing it read more
Were not this desire of fame very strong, the difficulty of
obtaining it, and the danger of losing it when obtained, would be
sufficient to deter a man from so vain a pursuit.