[On Italian:] One may almost call it a language that talks of itself, and always seems more witty than its speakers.
Madame de StaelWhen at eve, at the bounding of the landscape, the heavens appear to recline so slowly on the earth, imagination pictures beyond the horizon an asylum of hope, - a native land of love; and nature seems silently to repeat that man is immortal.
Madame de StaelLife resembles Gobelin tapestry; you do not see the canvass on the right side; but when you turn it, the threads are visible.
Madame de Stael