| A fertile soil, and a happy climate, delight us by a reflection on the happiness which they would afford the inhabitants, though at present the country be desart and uninhabited. |
| A man, whose limbs and shape promise strength and activity, is esteemed handsome, though condemned to perpetual imprisonment. |
| The imagination has a set of passions belonging to it, upon which our sentiments of beauty much depend. |
| These passions are moved by degrees of liveliness and strength, which are inferior to belief, and independent of the real existence of their objects. |
| Where a character is, in every respect, fitted to be beneficial to society, the imagination passes easily from the cause to the effect, without considering that there are some circumstances wanting to render the cause a complete one. |
| General rules create a species of probability, which sometimes influences the judgment, and always the imagination. |
| It is true, when the cause is compleat, and a good disposition is attended with good fortune, which renders it really beneficial to society, it gives a stronger pleasure to the spectator, and is attended with a more lively sympathy. |
| We are more affected by it; and yet we do not say that it is more virtuous, or that we esteem it more. |
| We know, that an alteration of fortune may render the benevolent disposition entirely impotent; and therefore we separate, as much as possible, the fortune from the disposition. |
| The case is the same, as when we correct the different sentiments of virtue, which proceed from its different distances from ourselves. |
| The passions do not always follow our corrections; but these corrections serve sufficiently to regulate our abstract notions, and are alone regarded, when we pronounce in general concerning the degrees of vice and virtue. |
| It is observed by critics, that all words or sentences, which are difficult to the pronunciation, are disagreeable to the ear. |
| There is no difference, whether a man hear them pronounced, or read them silently to himself. |
| When I run over a book with my eye, I Imagine I hear it all; and also, by the force of imagination, enter into the uneasiness, which the delivery of it would give the speaker. |
| The uneasiness is not real; but as such a composition of words has a natural tendency to produce it, this is sufficient to affect the mind with a painful sentiment, and render the discourse harsh and disagreeable. |
| It is a similar case, where any real quality is, by accidental circumstances, rendered impotent, and is deprived of its natural influence on society. |
| Upon these principles we may easily remove any contradiction, which may appear to be betwixt the extensive sympathy, on which our sentiments of virtue depend, and that limited generosity which I have frequently observed to be natural to men, and which justice and property suppose, according to the precedent reasoning. |
| My sympathy with another may give me the sentiment of pain and disapprobation, when any object is presented, that has a tendency to give him uneasiness; though I may not be willing to sacrifice any thing of my own interest, or cross any of my passions, for his satisfaction. |
| A house may displease me by being ill-contrived for the convenience of the owner; and yet I may refuse to give a shilling towards the rebuilding of it. |
| Sentiments must touch the heart, to make them controul our passions: But they need not extend beyond the imagination, to make them influence our taste. |
| When a building seems clumsy and tottering to the eye, it is ugly and disagreeable; though we be fully assured of the solidity of the workmanship. |