One thing only has been lent to youth and age in common—discontent.
A perverse and fretful disposition makes any state of life unhappy.
The root of all discontent is self-love.
Discontent is the want of self-reliance; it is infirmity of will.
Discontent is like ink poured into water, which fills the whole fountain full of blackness. It casts a cloud over the mind, and renders it more occupied about the evil which disquiets than about the means of removing it.
Discontents are sometimes the better part of our life.—I know not which is the most useful.—Joy I may choose for pleasure; but adversities are the best for profit; and sometimes these do so far help me, that I should, without them, want much of the joy I have.
Our condition never satisfies us; the present is always the worst.—Though Jupiter should grant his request to each, we should continue to importune him.
All human situations have their inconveniences.—We feel those of the present, but neither see nor feel those of the future; and hence we often make troublesome changes without amendment, and frequently for the worse.
There are two kinds of discontent in this world: the discontent that works, and the discontent that wrings its hands. The first gets what it wants, and the second loses what it had. There is no cure for the first but success, and there is no cure at all for the second.
Noble discontent is the path to heaven.
Our discontent is from comparison: were better states unseen, each man would like his own.
Save me from impious discontent at aught thy wisdom has denied or thy goodness has lent.
The best remedy for our discontent is to count our mercies. By the time we have reckoned up a part of these, we shall be on our knees praising the Lord for His great mercy and love.
A good man and a wise man may, at times, be angry with the world, and at times grieved for it; but no man was ever discontented with the world if he did his duty in it.
We love in others what we lack ourselves, and would be everything but what we are.
That which makes people dissatisfied with their condition, is the chimerical idea they form of the happiness of others.
The splendid discontent of God with Chaos, made the world; and from the discontent of man the world's best progress springs.
Poor in abundance, famished at a feast.