Nations and men are only the best when they are the gladdest, and deserve heaven when they enjoy it.

Sorrows are like thunderclouds, in the distance they look black, over our heads scarcely gray.

A loving maiden grows unconsciously more bold.

A woman who could always love would never grow old; and the love of mother and wife would often give or preserve many charms if it were not too often combined with parental and conjugal anger. There remains in the face of women who are naturally serene and peaceful, and of those rendered so by religion, an after-spring, and later an after-summer, the reflex of their most beautiful bloom.

Repetition is the mother of education.

Men, like bullets, go farthest when they are smoothest.

Education should bring to light the ideal of the individual.