If we could have a little patience, we should escape much mortification; time takes away as much as it gives.
It is a disgraceful thing to be ignorant.
long journeys are strange things: if we were always to continue in the same mind we are in at the end of a journey, we should never stir from the place we were then in: but Providence in kindness to us causes us to forget it. It is much the same with lying-in women. Heaven permits this forgetfulness that the world may be peopled, and that folks may take journeys to Provence.
... Providence conducts us with so much kindness through the different periods of our life, that we scarcely feel the change; our days glide gently and imperceptibly along, like the motion of the hour-hand, which we cannot discover. ... we advance gradually; we are the same to-day as yesterday, and to-morrow as to-day: thus we go on, without perceiving it, which is a miracle of the Providence I adore.
Truth and tears clear the way to a deep and lasting friendship. True friendship is never serene.
It is thus that we walk through the world like the blind, not knowing whither we are going, regarding as bad what is good, regarding as good what is bad, and ever in entire ignorance.
Nothing is so capable of overturning a good intention as to show a distrust of it; to be suspected for an enemy, is often sufficient to make a person become one.
It is sometimes best to slip over thoughts and not go to the bottom of them.
It is not always sorrow that opens the fountains of the eyes.
Occupation is the best safeguard for women under all circumstances--mental or physical, or both. Cupid extinguishes his torch in the atmosphere of industry.
... we ought to be astonished at nothing; for what do we not meet with in our journey through life?
Were it not for the amusement of our books, we should be moped to death for want of occupation. It rains incessantly. ... we tickle ourselves in order to laugh; to so low an ebb are we reduced.
. . . long journeys are strange things: if we were always to continue in the same mind we are in at the end of a journey, we should never stir from the place we were then in . . .
Happiness, like misfortunes, never comes alone.
Oh Dear! How unfortunate I am not to have anyone to weep with!
... truth ... carries authority with it; while falsehood and lies skulk under a load of words, without having the power of persuasion; the more they attempt to show themselves, the more they are entangled.
Thicken your religion a little. It is evaporating altogether by being subtilized.
It is the fine rain that soaks us through.
We like so much to talk of ourselves that we are never weary of those private interviews with a lover during the course of whole years, and for the same reason the devout like to spend much time with their confessor; it is the pleasure of talking of themselves, even though it be to talk ill.
The heart never becomes wrinkled.
if I inflict wounds, I heal them.
It is day by day that we go forward; today we are as we were yesterday and tomorrow we shall be like ourselves today. So we go on without being aware of it, and this is one of the miracles of Providence that I so love.
The heart has no wrinkles.
There is no one who does not represent a danger to someone.
war often breaks out when there is the most talk of peace.
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