Like death, he has all
seasons for his own; his ingenuity is infernal. Whoever tries to forestall
or appease him might better be at work in Augean stables; because, after
all, we must admit that the facts of life are on his side. It is not
intended that we shall be very comfortable. There is a terrible amount of
total depravity in animate and inanimate things. From morning till night
there is not an hour without its cross to carry. The weather thwarts us;
servants, landlords, drivers, washerwomen, and bosom friends misbehave;
clothes don't fit; teeth ache; stomachs get out of order; newspapers are
stupid; and children make too much noise. If there are not big troubles,
there are little ones. If they are not in sight, they are hiding. I have
wondered whether the happiest mortal could point to one single moment and
say, "At that moment there was nothing in my life which I would have had
changed." I think not.
In argument, therefore, the grumbler has the best of it. It is more than
probable that things are as he says. But why say it? Why make four
miseries out of three? If the three be already unbearable, so much the
worse.
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