Love enters the heart unawares: takes precedence of all the emotions--or, at least, will be second to none--and even reflection becomes its accomplice. While it lives, it renders blind; and when it has struck its roots deep only itself can… — Sophie Swetchine Copy Share
There are minds constructed like the eyes of certain insects, which discern, with admirable distinctness, the most delicate lineaments and finest veins of the leaf which bears them, but are totally unable to take in the ensemble of the plant… — Sophie Swetchine Copy Share Image
A good, finished scandal, fully armed and equipped, such as circulates in the world, is rarely the production of a single individual, or even of a single coterie. It sees the light in one; is rocked and nurtured in another; is petted, developed, and attains its growth in a third; and receives its finishing touches only after passing through a… — Sophie Swetchine Copy Share
Respect is a serious thing in him who feels it, and the height of honor for him who inspires the feeling. — Sophie Swetchine Copy Share Image
Since there must be chimeras, why is not perfection the chimera of all men? — Sophie Swetchine Copy Share Image
Those who have suffered much are like those who know many languages; they have learned to understand and be understood by all. — Sophie Swetchine Copy Share Image
Men are always invoking justice; yet it is justice which should make them tremble. — Sophie Swetchine Copy Share Image
To reveal imprudently the spot where we are most sensitive and vulnerable is to invite a blow. The demigod Achilles admitted no one to… — Sophie Swetchine Copy Share Image
There are questions so indiscreet, that they deserve neither truth nor falsehood in reply. — Sophie Swetchine Copy Share Image
Antiquity is a species of aristocracy with which it is not easy to be on visiting terms. — Sophie Swetchine Copy Share Image
The best of lessons, for a good many people, would be to listen at a keyhole. It is a pity for such that the… — Sophie Swetchine Copy Share Image
There is, by God's grace, an immeasurable distance between late and too late. — Sophie Swetchine Copy Share Image
