Since unhappiness excites interest, many, in order to render themselves interesting, feign unhappiness.

Reason guides but a small part of man, and the rest obeys feeling, true or false, and passion, good or bad.

Lofty mountains are full of springs; great hearts are full of tears.

The historian must be a poet; not to find, but to find again; not to breathe life into beings, into imaginary deeds, but in order to re-animate and revive that which has been; to represent what time and space have placed at a distance from us.

The city does not take away, neither does the country give, solitude; solitude is within us.

Present unhappiness is selfish; past sorrow is compassionate.

Friendship is the ideal; friends are the reality; reality always remains far apart from the ideal.