Time is a great ocean which, like the other ocean, overflows with our remains.

Poets and heroes are of the same race, the latter do what the former conceive.

History is neither more nor less than biography on a large scale.

Yet, in these autumn days when Nature expires, Here, in these veiled scenes, I find more attractions; It is a friend's sad goodbye; it is the last smile From lips that death is going to close forever!

Private passions grow tired and wear themselves out; political passions, never.

Exquisite beauty resides rather in the female form than face, where it is also more lasting.

God has placed the genius of women in their hearts, because the works of this genius are always works of love.