“Your bitter memories still have time to turn into sweet ones.”

For the happy man prayer is only a jumble of words, until the day when sorrow comes to explain to him the sublime language by means of which he speaks to God.

There are people who are willing to suffer and swallow their tears at leisure, and God will no doubt reward them in heaven for their resignation; but those who have the will to struggle strike back at fate in retaliation for the blows they receive.

Truly generous men are always ready to become sympathetic when their enemy’s misfortune surpasses the limits of their hatred.

The friends we have lost do not repose under the ground, they are buried deep in our hearts. It has been thus ordained that they may always accompany us.

Pain, thou art not an evil.

There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness.

Haste is a poor counselor.

Time, dear friend, time brings round opportunity; opportunity is the martingale of man. The more we have ventured the more we gain, when we know how to wait.

Great is truth. Fire cannot burn it nor water drown it.

Oh! The good times when we were so unhappy.

Moral wounds have this peculiarity – they may be hidden, but they never close; always painful, always ready to bleed when touched, they remain fresh and open in the heart.

The wretched and miserable should turn to their Saviour first, yet they do not hope in Him until all other hope is exhausted.

I have always had more dread of a pen, a bottle of ink, and a sheet of paper than of a sword or pistol.

You are very amiable, no doubt, but you would be charming if you would only depart.

Be happy, noble heart, be blessed for all the good thou hast done and wilt do hereafter, and let my gratitude remain in obscurity like your good deeds.

Philosophy cannot be taught; it is the application of the sciences to truth.

Pleasure must be found in study.

The approbation of others is a stimulus of which one must sometimes be wary. The feeling of one’s own strength makes one modest.

Painting from nature is not copying the object; it is realizing one’s sensations.

People seldom refuse help, if one offers it in the right way.

You have no idea how life-giving it is to find around one a youth that agrees not to bury one on the spot.

If we cannot find a way, we will make one.

This is the real thing of disillusion that no one, not any one really is believing, seeing, understanding, thinking anything as you are thinking, believing, seeing, understanding such a thing.

One illusion is as good as another.