Leisure is pain; take off our chariot wheels; how heavily we drag the load of life!
A man of pleasure is a man of pains.
Tis immortality, 'tis that alone, Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness, The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill. That only, and that amply this performs.
To frown at pleasure, and to smile in pain.
When pain can't bless, heaven quits us in despair.
As in smooth oil the razor best is whet, So wit is by politeness sharpest set; Their want of edge from their offence is seen, Both pain us least when exquisitely keen.