It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, a luster obliterates. There is little distinct left without an effort of memory, then indeed the lights are rekindled for a moment - but who can be sure that the Imagination is not the torch-bearer?

The premises are so delightfully extensive, that two people might live together without ever seeing, hearing or meeting.

I do detest everything which is not perfectly mutual.

Out of chaos God made a world, and out of high passions comes a people.

The Cardinal is at his wit's end - it is true that he had not far to go.

This is to be along; this, this is solitude!

A man of eighty has outlived probably three new schools of painting, two of architecture and poetry and a hundred in dress.