The perverseness of my fate is such that he's not mine because he's mine too much.

Blown roses hold their sweetness to the last.

The province of the soul is large enough to fill up every cranny of your time, and leave you much to answer for if one wretch be damned by your neglect.

When I consider life, it is all a cheat. Yet fooled with hope, people favor this deceit.

If one must be rejected, one succeed, make him my lord within whose faithful breast is fixed my image, and who loves me best.

Faith is to believe what you do not yet see: the reward for this faith is to see what you believe. Thus all below is strength, and all above is grace.

Home is the sacred refuge of our life.