Henri Frédéric Amiel’s diary, 1872

Without faith a man can do nothing. But faith can stifle all science. What, then, is this Proteus, and whence? Faith is a certitude without proofs. Being a…

The wrangle in the Paris Synod still goes on. The supernatural is the stone of stumbling. It might be possible to agree on the idea of the divine; but no, that is…

A priori speculations weary me now as much as anybody. All the different scholasticisms make me doubtful of what they profess to demonstrate, because, instead of…

I have been taking tea at the M’s. These English homes are very attractive. They are the recompense and the result of a long-lived civilization, and of an ideal…

The man who gives himself to contemplation looks on at, rather than directs his life, is rather a spectator than an actor, seeks rather to understand than to…

I have been turning over the “Stoics” again. Poor Louisa Siefert! Ah! we play the stoic, and all the while the poisoned arrow in the side pierces and wounds,…

What a strange dream! I was under an illusion and yet not under it; I was playing a comedy to myself, deceiving my imagination without being able to deceive my…

A deep and dreamless sleep and now I wake up to the gray, lowering, rainy sky, which has kept us company for so long. The air is mild, the general outlook…