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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.

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
Men
Pride
Shall
Dies
Suffering
Confidently
Future
Verbs
Two
Appropriate
May
Suffer
Without
Destiny

More quotes by Sophie Swetchine

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If grief is to be mitigated, it must either wear itself out or be shared.
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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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Travel is the frivolous part of serious lives, and the serious part of frivolous ones.
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The root of sanctity is sanity. A man must be healthy before he can be holy. We bathe first, and then perfume.
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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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We are often prophets to others only because we are our own historians.
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By becoming unhappy, we sometimes learn how to be less so.
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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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People read every thing nowadays, except books.
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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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I love victory, but I love not triumph.
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Youth should be a savings bank.
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Men do not go out to meet misfortune as we do. They learn it and we--we divine it.
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To have ideas is to gather flowers to think is to weave them into garlands.
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Attention is a silent and perpetual flattery.
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Let us shun everything, which might tend to efface the primitive lineaments of our individuality. Let us reflect that each one of us is a thought of God.
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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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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.
Sophie Swetchine
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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.
Sophie Swetchine
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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.
Sophie Swetchine