Pleasure (n.) and happiness, satisfaction and delight, are only different degrees of one thing — as pain, torment, anguish and misery are of its opposite.
Pleasure (n.) can be made: men can correct their palates and give relish to what had none — a truth so neglected it sounds like a paradox.
Pleasure (n.) can keep a man from God: he who takes things as they minister to his pleasures and passions, never inquiring into their causes, may live long without any notion of a Deity.
Pleasure (n.) and the abhorrence of pain are what leave us in no doubt in children who have no arts of concealment, and any native maxims, were there any, ought to shine there just as plainly.
Pleasure (n.) is the spur God fastened to thoughts and motions; without it we would have no reason to prefer attention to negligence or motion to rest, and would pass life in a lazy, lethargic dream.
Pleasure (n.) and pain are God's assurance of the external world: by applying things differently I can produce both in myself, which is the great concernment of my state.