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Indifferent souls never part. Impassioned souls part, and return to one another, because they can do no better.

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
Soul
Better
Impassioned
Never
Indifferent
Indifference
Souls
Return
Another
Part

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Real sorrow is almost as difficult to discover as real poverty. An instinctive delicacy hides the rays of the one and the wounds of the other.
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To love deeply in one direction makes us more loving in all others.
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Youth should be a savings bank.
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By becoming unhappy, we sometimes learn how to be less so.
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The most dangerous of all flattery is the inferiority of those about us.
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The most culpable of the excesses of Liberty is the harm she does herself.
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Suspicion has its dupes, as well as credulity.
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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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Old age is not one of the beauties of creation, but it is one of its harmonies.
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Indulgence is lovely in the sinless toleration, adorable in the pious and believing heart.
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If grief is to be mitigated, it must either wear itself out or be shared.
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When fresh sorrows have caused us to take some steps in the right way, we may not complain. We have invested in a life annuity, but the income remains.
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Attention is a silent and perpetual flattery.
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He who has ceased to enjoy his friend's superiority has ceased to love him.
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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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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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There are but two future verbs which man may appropriate confidently and without pride: I shall suffer, and I shall die.
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Men are always invoking justice yet it is justice which should make them tremble.
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Love sometimes elevates, creates new qualities, suspends the working of evil inclinations but only for a day. Love, then, is an Oriental despot, whose glance lifts a slave from the dust, and then consigns him to it again.
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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.
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