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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.

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
Worship
Less
Next
Pelt
Like
Naples
World
Baked
Inhabitants
January
Apples

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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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We recognize the action of God in great things: we exclude it in small. We forget that the Lord of eternity is also the Lord of the hour.
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Time is the shower of Danae each drop is golden.
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Providence has hidden a charm in difficult undertakings, which is appreciated only by those who dare to grapple with them.
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By becoming unhappy, we sometimes learn how to be less so.
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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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People read every thing nowadays, except books.
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The most dangerous of all flattery is the inferiority of those about us.
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There is a transcendent power in example.
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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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We are often prophets to others only because we are our own historians.
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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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What I value most next to eternity is time.
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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.
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Might we not say to the confused voices which sometimes arise from the depths of our being: Ladies, be so kind as to speak only four at a time?
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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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