True love makes the thought of death frequent, easy, without terrors; it merely becomes the standard of comparison, the price one would pay for many things.
The pleasures of love are always in proportion to our fears.
One-half, the finest half, of life is hidden from the man who does not love with passion.
It is not enough for a landscape to be interesting in itself. Eventually there must be a moral and historic interest.
One can acquire everything in solitude except character.
The Russians imitate French ways, but always at a distance of fifty years.