Silence is the universal refuge, the sequel to all dull discourses and all foolish acts, a balm to our every chagrin, as welcome after satiety as after disappointment; that background which the painter may not daub, be he master or bungler, and which, however awkward a figure we may have made in the foreground, remains ever our inviolable asylum, where no indignity can assail, no personality can disturb us.

Many old people receive pensions for no other reason, it seems to me, but as a compensation for having lived a long time ago.

Nature would not appear so rich, the profusion so rich, if we knew a use for everything.

No mortal is alert enough to be present at the first dawn of spring.

All men are children, and of one family. The same tale sends them all to bed, and wakes them in the morning.

I believe that what so saddens the reformer is not his sympathy with his fellows in distress, but, though he be the holiest son of God, is his private ail. Let this be righted, let the spring come to him, the morning rise over his couch, and he will forsake his generous companions without apology.

To the innocent there are neither cherubim nor angels.