The heart is always young only in the recollection of those whom it has loved in youth.

Genius has its fatality. Must we not see in its works a manifestation of the will of Providence?

The heart is always young only in the recollection of those whom it has loved in youth.

Always have old memories, and young hopes.

Hope is the virgin of the ideal world, who opens beaten to as in the midst of every tempest.

Whoever embarks with women embarks with a storm; but they are themselves the safety boats.

The graves of those we have loved and lost distress and console as.