It is a little stream, which flows softly, but freshens everything along its course.
We deceive ourselves when we fancy that only weakness needs support. Strength needs it far more.
To have ideas is to gather flowers; to think is to weave them into garlands.
We are amused through the intellect, but it is the heart that saves us from ennui.
Silence is like nightfall. Objects are lost in it insensibly.
Repentance is accepted remorse.