Obligation is the bitterest thraldom.

When death gives us a long lease of life, it takes as hostages all those whom we have loved.

The quarrels of lovers are like summer storms. Everything is more beautiful when they have passed.

The more heart, the more sorrow.

Want of perseverance is the great fault of women in everything--morals, attention to health, friendship, and so on. It cannot be too often repeated that women never reach the end of anything through want of perseverance.

Reason ought not, like vanity, to adorn herself with ancient parchments, and the display of a genealogical tree; more dignified in her proceedings, and proud of her immortal nature, she ought to derive everything from herself.

It were no virtue to bear calamities if we did not feel them.