of reason, the conduct of men is wholly unreasonable, if they
do not take another course.

On this point, therefore, we condemn those who live without thought of
the ultimate end of life, who let themselves be guided by their own
inclinations and their own pleasures without reflection and without
concern, and, as if they could annihilate eternity by turning away their
thought from it, think only of making themselves happy for the moment.

Yet this eternity exists, and death, which must open into it, and
threatens them every hour, must in a little time infallibly put them
under the dreadful necessity of being either annihilated or unhappy for
ever, without knowing which of these eternities is for ever prepared for
them.

This is a doubt of terrible consequence. They are in peril of eternal
woe; and thereupon, as if the matter were not worth the trouble, they
neglect to inquire whether this is one of those opinions which people
receive with too credulous a facility, or one of those which, obscure in
themselves, have a very firm, though hidden, foundation. Thus they know
not whether there be truth or falsity in the matter, nor whether there
be strength or weakness in the proofs. They have them before their eyes;
they refuse to look at them; and in that ignorance they choose all that
is necessary to fall into this misfortune if it exists, to await death
to make trial of it, yet to be very content in this state, to make
profession of it, and indeed to boast of it. Can we think seriously on
the importance of this subject without being horrified at conduct so
extravagant?

This resting in ignorance is a monstrous thing, and they who pass their
life in it must be made to feel its extravagance and stupidity, by
having it shown to them, so that they may be confounded by the sight of
their folly. For this is how men reason, when they choose to live in
such ignorance of what they are, and without seeking enlightenment. "I
know not," they say ...

196

Men lack heart; they would not make a friend of it.

197

To be insensible to the extent of despising interesting things, and to
become insensible to the point which interests us most.

198

The sensibility of man to trifles, and his insensibility to great
things, indicates a strange inversion.

199

Let us imagine a number of men in chains, and all condemned to death,
where some are killed each day in the sight of the others, and those who
remain see their ow