A Woman, When She Is Heroic, Is

We Do Not Die Of Anguish, We Live On. We Continue To Suffer. We Drink The Cup Drop By Drop.

... The Progress Of The Language Has Caused Us To Lose Many Old Treasures. It Is Thus With All Progress, And One Must Make The Best Of It.

My Strength Has Not Equaled My Mad Ambition. I Have Remained Obscure; I Have Done Worse -- I Have Touched Success, And Allowed It To Escape Me.

Love Without Reverence And Enthusiasm Is Only Friendship.

Art Belongs To All Times And To All Countries; Its Special Benefit Is Precisely To Be Still Living When Everything Else Seems Dying; That Is Why Providence Shields It From Too Personal Or Too General Passions, And Grants It A Patient And Persevering Organization, Durable Sensibility, And The Contemplative Sense In Which Lies Invincible Faith.