When she was gone, t...

When she was gone, the world looked awkwardly round me. I was as much a
stranger in it, in my thoughts, as I was in the Brazils, when I first
went on shore there; and as much alone, except for the assistance of
servants, as I was in my island. I knew neither what to think nor what
to do. I saw the world busy around me: one part labouring for bread,
another part squandering in vile excesses or empty pleasures, but equally
miserable because the end they proposed still fled from them; for the men
of pleasure every day surfeited of their vice, and heaped up work for
sorrow and repentance; and the men of labour spent their strength in
daily struggling for bread to maintain the vital strength they laboured
with: so living in a daily circulation of sorrow, living but to work, and
working but to live, as if daily bread were the only end of wearisome
life, and a wearisome life the only occasion of daily bread.

ادامه دارد...

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