We cease loving ourselves if no one loves us.
—Madame de Stael
A religious life is a struggle and not a hymn.
In matters of the heart, nothing is true except the improbable.
The voice of conscience is so delicate that it is easy to stifle it; but it is also so clear that it is impossible to mistake it.
We understand death for the first time when he puts his hand upon one whom we love.
Sow good services; sweet remembrances will grow them.