Destiny has two ways of crushing us -- by refusing our wishes and by fulfilling them.
Doing easily what others find difficult is talent; doing what is impossible for talent is genius.
To do easily what is difficult for others is the mark of talent. To do what is impossible for talent is the mark of genius.
It is by teaching that we teach ourselves, by relating that we observe, by affirming that we examine, by showing that we look, by writing that we think, by pumping that we draw water into the well.
Great men are true men, the men in whom nature has succeeded. They are not extraordinary -- they are in the true order. It is the other species of men who are not what they ought to be.
To live we must conquer incessantly, we must have the courage to be happy.
Every life is a profession of faith, and exercises an inevitable and silent influence.
Clever people will recognize and tolerate nothing but cleverness.
Category: Intelligence And Intellectuals
Mutual respect implies discretion and reserve even in love itself; it means preserving as much liberty as possible to those whose life we share. We must distrust our instinct of intervention, for the desire to make one's own will prevail is often disguised under the mask of solicitude.
Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are travelling the dark journey with us. Oh be swift to love, make haste to be kind.
Category: Life And Living
Women wish to be loved not because they are pretty, or good, or well bred, or graceful, or intelligent, but because they are themselves.
In every loving woman there is a priestess of the past -- a pious guardian of some affection, of which the object has disappeared.
To marry unequally is to suffer equally.
Materialism coarsens and petrifies everything, making everything vulgar, and every truth false.
Melancholy is at the bottom of everything, just as at the end of all rivers is the sea. Can it be otherwise in a world where nothing lasts, where all that we have loved or shall love must die? Is death, then, the secret of life? The gloom of an eternal mourning enwraps, more or less closely, every serious and thoughtful soul, as night enwraps the universe.