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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.
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
Life
Limits
Seem
Sides
Called
Knowledge
Constrain
Happy
Sorrows
Seems
Sorrow
Would
Infinite
More quotes by Sophie Swetchine
We reform others unconsciously when we walk uprightly.
Sophie Swetchine
Time is the shower of Danae each drop is golden.
Sophie Swetchine
Indifferent souls never part. Impassioned souls part, and return to one another, because they can do no better.
Sophie Swetchine
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 chains which cramp us most are those which weigh on us least.
Sophie Swetchine
Silence is like nightfall. Objects are lost in it insensibly.
Sophie Swetchine
There are but two future verbs which man may appropriate confidently and without pride: I shall suffer, and I shall die.
Sophie Swetchine
People read every thing nowadays, except books.
Sophie Swetchine
Loving souls are like paupers. They live on what is given them.
Sophie Swetchine
Indulgence is lovely in the sinless toleration, adorable in the pious and believing heart.
Sophie Swetchine
By becoming unhappy, we sometimes learn how to be less so.
Sophie Swetchine
We do not judge men by what they are in themselves, but by what they are relatively to us.
Sophie Swetchine
We are often prophets to others only because we are our own historians.
Sophie Swetchine
True poets, like great artists, have scarcely any childhood, and no old age.
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If grief is to be mitigated, it must either wear itself out or be shared.
Sophie Swetchine
Travel is the frivolous part of serious lives, and the serious part of frivolous ones.
Sophie Swetchine
Friendship is like those ancient altars where the unhappy, and even the guilty, found a sure asylum.
Sophie Swetchine
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
Resignation is, to some extent, spoiled for me by the fact that it is so entirely conformable to the laws of common-sense. I should like just a little more of the supernatural in the practice of my favorite virtue.
Sophie Swetchine
Piety softens all that courage bears.
Sophie Swetchine
