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Friendship is like those ancient altars where the unhappy, and even the guilty, found a sure asylum.
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
Found
Asylum
Even
Asylums
Like
Altars
Guilty
Unhappy
Ancient
Friendship
Sure
More quotes by Sophie Swetchine
Silence is like nightfall. Objects are lost in it insensibly.
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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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Those who make us happy are always thankful to us for being so their gratitude is the reward of their benefits.
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By becoming unhappy, we sometimes learn how to be less so.
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The chains which cramp us most are those which weigh on us least.
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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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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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Feeling loves a subdued light.
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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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Happiness and Virtue clasp hands and walk together.
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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 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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Youth should be a savings bank.
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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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What I value most next to eternity is time.
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Indifferent souls never part. Impassioned souls part, and return to one another, because they can do no better.
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We deceive ourselves when we fancy that only weakness needs support. Strength needs it far more.
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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.
Sophie Swetchine