Her own misery filled her heartโthere was no room in it for other people's sorrow.
We are overhasty to speak as if God did not manifest himself by our silent feeling, and make his love felt through ours.
What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity.
Is it not rather what we expect in men, that they should have numerous strands of experience lying side by side and never compare them with each other?
To judge wisely, we must know how things appear to the unwise.
The best travel is that which one can take by one's own fireside. In memory or imagination.