Pride dries the tears of anger and vexation; humility, those of grief. The one is indignant that we should suffer; the other calms us by the reminder that we deserve nothing else.

Life grows darker as we go on, till only one pure light is left shining on it; and that is faith. Old age, like solitude and sorrow, has its revelations.

Antiquity is a species of aristocracy with which it is not easy to be on visiting terms.

Feeling loves a subdued light.

Those who make us happy are always thankful to us for being so; their gratitude is the reward of their benefits.

Love sometimes elevates, creates new qualities, suspends the working of evil inclinations; but only for a day. Love, then, is an Oriental despot, whose glance lifts a slave from the dust, and then consigns him to it again.

Attention is a silent and perpetual flattery.