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The Christian's God is a God of metamorphoses. You cast grief into his bosom: you draw thence, peace. You cast in despair: 'tis hope that rises to the surface. It is a sinner whose heart he moves. It is a saint who returns him thanks.

Sophie Swetchine

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Sophie Swetchine
Age: 74 †
Born: 1782
Born: November 22
Died: 1857
Died: September 10
Diarist
Lady-In-Waiting
Salonnière
Writer
Moscow
Russian SFSR
Sofia Petrovna Soymonova
Madame Swetchine
Swetchine
Anne Sophie Swetchine
Return
Draw
Bosoms
Peace
Saint
Rises
Hope
Surface
Returns
Christian
Draws
Sinner
Moving
God
Moves
Metamorphoses
Heart
Despair
Cast
Thence
Grief
Casts
Metamorphosis
Whose
Thanks
Bosom

More quotes by Sophie Swetchine

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All the joys of earth will not assuage our thirst for happiness while a single grief suffices to shroud life in a sombre veil, and smite it with nothingness at all points.
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The symptoms of compassion and benevolence, in some people, are like those minute guns which warn you that you are in deadly peril.
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Death is the justification of all the ways of the Christian, the last end of all his sacrifices, the touch of the Great Master which completes the picture.
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Respect is a serious thing in him who feels it, and the height of honor for him who inspires the feeling.
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The very might of the human intellect reveals its limits.
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Feeling loves a subdued light.
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A malicious enemy is better than a clumsy friend.
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Let us not fail to scatter along our pathway the seeds of kindness and sympathy. Some of them will doubtless perish but if one only lives, it will perfume our steps and rejoice our eyes.
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Happiness and Virtue clasp hands and walk together.
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It would seem that by our sorrows only are we called to a knowledge of the Infinite. Are we happy? The limits of life constrain us on all sides.
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Old age is the night of life, as night is the old age of the day. Still, night is full of magnificence and, for many, it is more brilliant than the day.
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Life grows darker as we go on, till only one pure light is left shining on it and that is faith. Old age, like solitude and sorrow, has its revelations.
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Suspicion has its dupes, as well as credulity.
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Youth should be a savings bank.
Sophie Swetchine
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Loving souls are like paupers. They live on what is given them.
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When any one tells you that he belongs to no party, you may at any rate be sure that he does not belong to yours.
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Friendship is like those ancient altars where the unhappy, and even the guilty, found a sure asylum.
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Our faults afflict us more than our good deeds console. Pain is ever uppermost in the conscience as in the heart.
Sophie Swetchine
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If grief is to be mitigated, it must either wear itself out or be shared.
Sophie Swetchine
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I study much, and the more I study, the oftener I go back to those first principles which are so simple that childhood itself can lisp them.
Sophie Swetchine