How much past there is in a life, however brief it be.

Divine Wisdom, intending to detain us some time on earth, has done well to cover with a veil the prospect of the life to come; for if our sight could clearly distinguish the opposite bank, who would remain on this tempestuous coast of time?

Intellect does not attain its full force unless it attacks power.

The mind's pleasures are made to calm the tempests of the heart.

The voice of conscience is so delicate that it is easy to stifle it; but it is also so clear that it is impossible to mistake it.

It is difficult to grow old gracefully.

What is love, if it can calculate and provide against its own decay?