How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads; to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams.

I suggest you go on goodreads good sir

The short space of threescore years can never content the imagination of man; nor can the imperfect joys of this world satisfy his heart. Man alone, of all created beings, displays a natural contempt of existence, and yet a boundless desire to exist; he scorns life, but he dreads annihilation. These different feelings incessantly urged his soul to the contemplation of a future state, and religion directs his musings thither. Religion, then, is simply another form of hope; and it is no less natural to the human heart than hope itself.

It isn't tying himself to one woman that a man dreads when he thinks of marrying it's separating himself from all the others.

How blessed are some people whose lives have no fears no dreads to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly and brings nothing but sweet dreams.