Strictly speaking, there is but one real evil: I mean acute pain. All other complaints are so considerably diminished by time that it is plain the grief is owing to our passion, since the sensation of it vanishes when that is over.
Interpretation
The quote suggests that acute pain is the only true evil, as all other forms of suffering diminish over time, highlighting the impact of our emotions on grief.
Mary Wortley Montagu emphasizes the idea that while many forms of suffering exist, only acute pain qualifies as a genuine evil. Other grievances and complaints tend to lessen over time, indicating that much of our grief is tied to our emotional responses. This perspective invites reflection on how our passions and reactions can amplify our distress, making acute physical pain the most significant and persistent source of suffering.
In practice
In a discussion about the nature of suffering and how we cope, this quote can illustrate a key point about pain versus emotional distress.
I regard almost all quarrels of princes on the same footing, and I see nothing that marks man's unreason so positively as war. Indeed, what folly to kill one another for interests often imaginary, and always for the pleasure of persons who do not think themselves even obliged to those who sacrifice themselves for them!
Whoever will cultivate their own mind will find full employment. Every virtue does not only require great care in the planting, but as much daily solicitude in cherishing as exotic fruits and flowers; the vices and passions (which I am afraid are the natural product of the soil) demand perpetual weeding. Add to this the search after knowledge. . . and the longest life is too short.
There is no remedy so easy as books, which if they do not give cheerfulness, at least restore quiet to the most troubled mind.
My chief study all my life has been to lighten misfortunes and multiply pleasures, as far as human nature can.
What is the cat?" he exclaimed. "It is a corrective. God, having made the mouse, said, 'I've made a blunder.' And he made the cat. The cat is the erratum of the mouse. The mouse, plus the cat, Is the revised and corrected proof of creation.
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
I learned to make my mind large, as the universe is large, so that there is room for contradictions.
Reincarnation contains a most comforting explanation of reality by means of which Indian thought surmounts difficulties which baffle the thinkers of Europe.
Not only are we harried by time, we seem unable, despite a thousand generations, even to get used to it. We are always amazed at it–how fast it goes, how slowly it goes, how much of it is gone. Where, we cry, has the time gone? We aren’t adapted to it, not at home in it. If that is so, it may appear as a proof, or at least a powerful suggestion, that eternity exists and is our home.
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