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What an incongruous animal is Man! how unsettled in his best part, his Soul; & how changing and variable in his frame of body! the constancy of the one shaken by every notion, the temperament of the other affected by every blast of wind. what is he altogether? One mighty inconsistency . [[underline]] sickness and pain [[/underline]] is the lot of one half of him: [[underline]] doubt & fear [[/underline]] the portion of the other. -- What a bustle we make about passing our time when all our space is but a point. What aims & ambitions are crowded into the little instant of our life, which (as Shakespear finely words it) is rounded with a sleep. ---- Pope
