Adrian Rivas

About me:

The cheer-up-er himself, Bach.

The spring affords to a mind, so free from the disturbance of cares or passions to be vacant to calm amusements, almost every thing that our present state makes us capable of enjoying.

The variegated verdure of the fields and woods, the succession of grateful odors, the voice of pleasure pouring out its notes on every side, with the gladness apparently conceived by every animal, from the growth of his food, and the clemency of the weather, throw over the whole earth an air of gaiety, significantly expressed by the smile of nature.

Yet there are men to whom these scenes are able to give no delight, and who hurry away from all the varieties of rural beauty, to lose their hours, and divert their thoughts by cards, or assemblies, a tavern dinner or the prattle of the day.

It may be laid down as a position which will seldom deceive, that when a man cannot bear his own company there is something wrong. He must fly away from himself, either because he feels a tediousness in life from the eqiupoise of an empty mind, which, having no tendency to one motion more than another but as it it impelled by some external power, must always have recourse to foreign objects, or he must be afraid of intrusion of some unpleasing ideas...