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The very might of the human intellect reveals its limits.
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
Reveals
Intellect
Limits
Might
Human
Humans
Mind
More quotes by Sophie Swetchine
There is a transcendent power in example.
Sophie Swetchine
Men do not go out to meet misfortune as we do. They learn it and we--we divine it.
Sophie Swetchine
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
We reform others unconsciously when we walk uprightly.
Sophie Swetchine
The most culpable of the excesses of Liberty is the harm she does herself.
Sophie Swetchine
There are but two future verbs which man may appropriate confidently and without pride: I shall suffer, and I shall die.
Sophie Swetchine
When any one tells you that he belongs to no party, you may at any rate be sure that he does not belong to yours.
Sophie Swetchine
The mind wears the colors of the soul, as a valet those of his master.
Sophie Swetchine
Time is the shower of Danae each drop is golden.
Sophie Swetchine
Old age is not one of the beauties of creation, but it is one of its harmonies.
Sophie Swetchine
Kindness causes us to learn, and to forget, many things.
Sophie Swetchine
People read every thing nowadays, except books.
Sophie Swetchine
Pride dries the tears of anger and vexation humility, those of grief. The one is indignant that we should suffer the other calms us by the reminder that we deserve nothing else.
Sophie Swetchine
Indifferent souls never part. Impassioned souls part, and return to one another, because they can do no better.
Sophie Swetchine
Those who make us happy are always thankful to us for being so their gratitude is the reward of their benefits.
Sophie Swetchine
I love victory, but I love not triumph.
Sophie Swetchine
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
Feeling loves a subdued light.
Sophie Swetchine
Indulgence is lovely in the sinless toleration, adorable in the pious and believing heart.
Sophie Swetchine
Suspicion has its dupes, as well as credulity.
Sophie Swetchine
