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There are wounds of self-love which one does not confess to one's dearest friends.

Jean Antoine Petit-Senn

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Jean Antoine Petit-Senn
Born: 1792
Born: April 6
Poet
Dearest
Confess
Wounds
Friends
Doe
Self
Love

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Of all trifles, titles are the lightest.
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We are told to walk noiselessly through the world, that we may waken neither hatred, nor envy but, alas! what can we do when they never sleep!
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When our friends are alive, we see the good qualities they lack dead, we remember only those they possessed.
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That prudery which survives youth and beauty resembles a scarecrow left in the fields after harvest.
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Genius, like a torch, shines less in the broad daylight of the present than in the night of the past.
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It is almost impossible to find those who admire us entirely lacking in taste.
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Pleasure limps for him. who enjoys it alone.
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It requires less character to discover the faults of others, than to tolerate them.
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People who declare that they belong to no party certainly do not belong to ours.
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We find ourselves less witty in remembering what we have said than in dreaming of what we would have said.
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Our interests are grains of opium to our consciences, but they only put it to sleep for a terrible awakening.
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True courage is like a kite a contrary wind raises it higher.
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In love we are not only liable to betray ourselves, but also the secrets of others.
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Nothing for preserving the body like having no heart.
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In a better world we will find our young years and our old friends.
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Adversity, which makes us indulgent to others, renders them severe towards us.
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Some delicate matters must be treated like pins, because if they are not seized by the right end, we get pricked.
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Public opinion is a courtesan, whom we seek to please without respecting.
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