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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.

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
Faith
Revelations
Left
Till
Light
Solitude
Life
Shining
Like
Sorrow
Pure
Grows
Age
Darker

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What I value most next to eternity is time.
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Youth should be a savings bank.
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We reform others unconsciously when we walk uprightly.
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We expect everything and are prepared for nothing.
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Men are always invoking justice yet it is justice which should make them tremble.
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Kindness causes us to learn, and to forget, many things.
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The chains which cramp us most are those which weigh on us least.
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I love victory, but I love not triumph.
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Happiness and Virtue clasp hands and walk together.
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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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There are words which are worth as much as the best actions, for they contain the germ of them all.
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Piety softens all that courage bears.
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We are all of us, in this world, more or less like St. January, whom the inhabitants of Naples worship one day, and pelt with baked apples the next.
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Travel is the frivolous part of serious lives, and the serious part of frivolous ones.
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To reveal imprudently the spot where we are most sensitive and vulnerable is to invite a blow. The demigod Achilles admitted no one to his confidence.
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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.
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Silence is like nightfall. Objects are lost in it insensibly.
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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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In retirement, the passage of time seems accelerated. Nothing warns us of its flight. It is a wave which never murmurs, because there is no obstacle to its flow.
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If grief is to be mitigated, it must either wear itself out or be shared.
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