Memory, wit, fancy, acuteness, cannot grow young again in old age, but the heart can.

Recollection is the only paradise from which we cannot be turned out.

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.

Poverty is the only load which is the heavier the more loved ones there are to assist in bearing it.

feelings of man are always pure and the brightest to the meeting time and Farewell.

Sorrows gather around great souls as storms do around mountains; but, like them, they break the storm and purify the air of the plain beneath them.

Remembrances last longer than present realities.