Witticisms are fire-arms, that make a noise and give pain.

One has so much time for thought in the country! However occupied one may be, 'tis with nothing that engrosses the mind, which works away on its own account like a mill-wheel.

A little time separates us from those who depart - a time of tears, a time of sadness and solitude; but, that over, we go to rejoin them and to enjoy with them the society of the blessed. Oh, how sweetly the heart rests in this immortal hope!

Kings may see their palaces fall, but the ants will always have their dwellings.

My God, how badly one calculates in this world! ... Let us leave off calculating on anything but death -- it is the only certainty.

The errors of the intellect are fatal, still more dangerous than those of the heart.

How long time is when one is sad! Is it three years or three days since you went away?