Our faults afflict us more than our good deeds console. Pain is ever uppermost in the conscience as in the heart.

Feeling loves a subdued light.

The Christian's God is a God of metamorphoses. You cast grief into his bosom: you draw thence, peace. You cast in despair: 'tis hope that rises to the surface. It is a sinner whose heart he moves. It is a saint who returns him thanks.

We do not judge men by what they are in themselves, but by what they are relatively to us.

When any one tells you that he belongs to no party, you may at any rate be sure that he does not belong to yours.

The most culpable of the excesses of Liberty is the harm she does herself.

My sole defense against the natural horror which death inspires is to love beyond it.