I was a queen, and you took away my crown; a wife, and you killed my husband; a mother, and you deprived me of my children. My blood alone remains: take it, but do not make me suffer long.
From Marie Antoinette
I have seen all, I have heard all, I have forgotten all.
Courage! I have shown it for years; think you I shall lose it at the moment when my sufferings are to end?
My tastes are not those of the king, who has none, except for hunting and mechanic's labour.
My mother sees things but from the distance; she does not weigh them in regard to my position, and she judges me too harshly. But she is my mother, who loves me dearly; and when she speaks, I can only bow my head.
I have begun the 'History of England' by Mr. Hume. It seems to me very interesting, though it is necessary to recollect that it is a Protestant who has written it.
You have doubtless heard, my dear mother, the misfortune of Madame de Chartres, whose child is born dead. But I would rather have even that, terrible as it is, than be as I am without hope of any children.
There is nothing new except what has been forgotten.
No one understands my ills, nor the terror that fills my breast, who does not know the heart of a mother.
It is true I am rather taken up with dress; but as to feathers, every one wears them, and it would seem extraordinary if I did not.
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