Our experience is composed rather of illusions lost than of wisdom acquired.

What is experience? A poor little hut constructed from the ruins of the palace of gold and marble called our illusions.

Length of saying makes languor of hearing.

As long as we love, we lend to the beloved object qualities of mind and heart which we deprive him of when the day of misunderstanding arrives.

There is a slowness in affairs which ripens them, and a slowness which rots them.

History, if thoroughly comprehended, furnishes something of the experience which a man would acquire who should be a contemporary of all ages and a fellow citizen of all peoples.

Great souls are harmonious.