Discover a wealth of wisdom and insight from Victor Hugo through their most impactful and thought-provoking quotes and sayings. Expand your perspective with their inspiring words and share these beautiful Victor Hugo quote pictures with your friends and followers on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blog - all free of charge. We've compiled the top 2016 Victor Hugo quotes for you to explore and share with others.

The Bishop, who was sitting close to him, gently touched his hand. "You could not help telling me who you were. This is not my house; it is the house of Jesus Christ. This door does not demand of him who enters whether he has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer, you are hungry and thirsty; you are welcome. And do not thank me; do not say that I receive you in my house. No one is at home here, except the man who needs a refuge. I say to you, who are passing by, that you are much more at home here than I am myself. Everything here is yours. What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me you had one which I knew."The man opened his eyes in astonishment."Really? You knew what I was called?""Yes," replied the Bishop, "you are called my brother. By Victor Hugo Bishop House Gently Hand Sitting

The Poor ChildrenTake heed of this small child of earth;He is great; he hath in him God most high.Children before their fleshly birthAre lights alive in the blue sky.In our light bitter world of wrongThey come; God gives us them awhile.His speech is in their stammering tongue,And his forgiveness in their smile.Their sweet light rests upon our eyes.Alas! their right to joy is plain.If they are hungry ParadiseWeeps, and, if cold, Heaven thrills with pain.The want that saps their sinless flowerSpeaks judgment on sin's ministers.Man holds an angel in his power.Ah! deep in Heaven what thunder stirs,When God seeks out these tender thingsWhom in the shadow where we sleepHe sends us clothed about with wings,And finds them ragged babes that weep By Victor Hugo God Light Poor Heaven Earth

We will simply say here that, as a means of contrast with the sublime, the grotesque is, in our view, the richest source that nature can offer art. Rubens so understood it, doubtless, when it pleased him to introduce the hideous features of a court dwarf amid his exhibitions of royal magnificence, coronations and splendid ceremonial.The universal beauty which the ancients solemnly laid upon everything, is not without monotony; the same impression repeated again and again may prove fatiguing at last. Sublime upon sublime scarcely presents a contrast, and we need a little rest from everything, even the beautiful.On the other hand, the grotesque seems to be a halting-place, a mean term, a starting-point whence one rises toward the beautiful with a fresher and keener perception. The salamander gives relief to the water-sprite; the gnome heightens the charm of the sylph. By Victor Hugo Sublime Grotesque View Art Contrast

However, this sceptic had one fanaticism. This fanaticism was neither a dogma, nor an idea, nor an art, nor a science; it was a man: Enjolras. Grantaire admired, loved, and venerated Enjolras. To whom did this anarchical scoffer unite himself in this phalanx of absolute minds? To the most absolute. In what manner had Enjolras subjugated him? By his ideas? No. By his character. A phenomenon which is often observable. A sceptic who adheres to a believer is as simple as the law of complementary colors. That which we lack attracts us. No one loves the light like the blind man. The dwarf adores the drum-major. The toad always has his eyes fixed on heaven. Why? In order to watch the bird in its flight. Grantaire, in whom writhed doubt, loved to watch faith soar in Enjolras. He had need of Enjolras. That chaste, healthy, firm, upright, hard, candid nature charmed him, without his being clearly aware of it, and without the idea of explaining it to himself having occurred to him. By Victor Hugo Enjolras Fanaticism Man Absolute Grantaire

Moreover that which is called, far too harshly in certain cases, the ingratitude of children, is not always a thing so deserving of reproach as it is supposed. It is the ingratitude of nature. Nature, as we have elsewhere said, "looks before her." Nature divides living beings into those who are arriving and those who are departing. Those who are departing are turned towards the shadows, those who are arriving towards the light. Hence a gulf which is fatal on the part of the old, and involuntary on the part of the young. This breach, at first insensible, increases slowly, like all separations of branches. The boughs, without becoming detached from the trunk, grow away from it. It is no fault of theirs. Youth goes where there is joy, festivals, vivid lights, love. Old age goes towards the end. They do not lose sight of each other, but there is no longer a close connection. Young people feel the cooling off of life; old people, that of the tomb. Let us not blame these poor children. By Victor Hugo Ingratitude Nature Called Cases Supposed

Go out in the world and work like money doesn't matter, sing as if no one is listening, love as if you have never been hurt, and dance as if no one is watching. By Victor Hugo Matter Sing Listening Love Hurt

There, at a depth to which divers would find it difficult to descend, are caverns, haunts, and dusky mazes, where monstrous creatures multiply and destroy each other. Huge crabs devour fish and are devoured in their turn. Hideous shapes of living things, not created to be seen by human eyes wander in this twilight. Vague forms of antennae, tentacles, fins, open jaws, scales, and claws, float about there, quivering, growing larger, or decomposing and perishing in the gloom, while horrible swarms of swimming things prowl about seeking their prey.To gaze into the depths of the sea is, in the imagination, like beholding the vast unknown, and from its most terrible point of view. The submarine gulf is analogous to the realm of night and dreams. There also is sleep, unconsciousness, or at least apparent unconsciousness, of creation. There in the awful silence and darkness, the rude first forms of life, phantomlike, demoniacal, pursue their horrible instincts. By Victor Hugo Haunts Descend Caverns Mazes Divers

Madame Magloire sometimes called him 'Your Highness.' One day, rising from his armchair, he went to his library for a book. It was on one of the upper shelves, and as the bishop was rather short, he could not reach it. 'Madame Magloire,' said he, 'bring me a chair. My highness cannot reach that shelf. By Victor Hugo Madame Magloire Highness Called Reach

The memory of an absent person shines in the deepest recesses of the heart, shining the more brightly the more wholly its object has vanished: a light on the horizon of the despairing, darkened spirit; a star gleaming in our inward night. By Victor Hugo Heart Shining Vanished Despairing Darkened

The memory of an absent being kindles in the darkness of the heart; the more it has disappeared, the more it beams; the gloomy and despairing soul sees this light on its horizon; the star of the inner night. By Victor Hugo Heart Disappeared Beams Horizon Night

One can no more prevent the mind from returning to an idea than the sea from returning to a shore. In the case of the sailor, this is called the tide; in the case of the guilty, it is called remorse. God upheaves the soul as well as the ocean. By Victor Hugo Returning Shore Case Prevent Mind

She imagined that her mother's soul had passed into this good man and had come to live close by her. By Victor Hugo Imagined Mother Soul Passed Good

To cling to his paradise and become a devil or become a saint by going back to hell? By Victor Hugo Hell Cling Paradise Devil Saint

Do not economize on the hymeneal rites; do not prune them of their splendor, nor split farthings on the day when you are radiant. A wedding is not house-keeping. By Victor Hugo Rites Splendor Radiant Economize Hymeneal

Sire, you are looking at a plain man, and I am looking at a great man. Each of us may benefit. By Victor Hugo Sire Man Plain Great Benefit

I think of winter, which is nothing but a rift in the firmament through which the winds break loose, the shreds of cloud over the hilltops in the new blue of the morning and dew-drops, those false pearls, and frost, that beauty powder, and mankind in disarray and events out of joint, and so many spots on the sun and so many craters in the moon and so much wretchedness everywhere when I think of all this I can't help feeling that God is not rich. He has the appearance of riches, certainly, but I can feel his embarrassment. He gives us a revolution the way a bankrupt merchant gives a ball. We must not judge any god by appearances. I see a shoddy universe beyond that splendour of the sky. Creation itself is bankrupt, and that's why I'm a malcontent. By Victor Hugo Winter Loose Dewdrops Pearls Frost

He had but one consolation, that she had loved him, that her eyes had told him so, that although she did not know his name she knew his heart, and that perhaps, wherever she now was, in whatever undiscoverable place, she loved him still. Perhaps she even thought of him constantly as he did of her. Sometimes, in those unaccountable moments known to every lover, when the heart feels a strange stirring of delight although there is not cause for anything but grief, he reflected: 'It is her own thoughts that are reaching me! ... And perhaps my thoughts are reaching her!'Fancies such as these, which an instant later he brushed aside, nevertheless sufficed to kindle a glow in him which was something near to hope. By Victor Hugo Loved Consolation Place Eyes Told

Great griefs exhaust. They discourage us with life. The man into whom they enter feels something taken from him. In youth, their visit is sad; later on, it is ominous. By Victor Hugo Great Exhaust Griefs Life Discourage

One day - when the emperor had come to call on his uncle the cardinal - our worthy priest happened to be waiting as his Majesty went by. Noticing that the old man looked at him with a certain curiosity, Napoleon turned around and said brusquely, 'Who is this good man looking at me?''Sire,' replied M. Myriel, "you are looking at a good man, and I at a great one. May we both be the better for it."That evening the emperor asked the cardinal the priest's name, Still later, M. Myriel was totally surprised to learn he had been appointed Bishop of Digne. By Victor Hugo Majesty Man Day Sire Call

Let us never fear robbers or murderers. They are dangers from without, petty dangers. Let us fear ourselves. Prejudices are the real robbers; vices are the real murderers. The great dangers lie within ourselves. What matters it if something threatens are head or our purse! Let us think only of that which threatens the soul. By Victor Hugo Murderers Dangers Fear Robbers Real

Notwithstanding the fog which rose around, I perceived the walls and roofs of the houses of Soissons, with a half-moon peering from behind them. I alighted, and, with a heart fully acknowledging the sublimity of nature, gazed upon the imposing scene. A grasshopper was chirping in the neighboring field; the trees by the road side were softly rustling; and I saw, with the mind's eye, Peace hovering over the plain, now solitary and tranquil, where Caesar had conquered, Clovis had exercised his authority, and where Napoleon had all but fallen. It shows that men - even Caesar, Clovis, and Napoleon - are only passing shadows; and that war is a fantasy which terminates with them; whilst God - and Nature, which comes from God - and Peace, which comes from Nature - are things of eternity. By Victor Hugo Soissons Nature Clovis God Notwithstanding

So long as there shall exist, by reason of law and custom, a social condemnation which, in the midst of civilization, artificially creates a hell on earth, and complicates with human fatality a destiny that is divine; so long as the three problems of the century - the degradation of man by the exploitation of his labour, the ruin of women by starvation and the atrophy of childhood by physical and spiritual night are not solved; so long as, in certain regions, social asphyxia shall be possible; in other words and from a still broader point of view, so long as ignorance and misery remain on earth, there should be a need for books such as this. By Victor Hugo Long Earth Social Exist Custom

Having an immense reserve fund of wrath to get rid of, and not knowing what to do with it, he continued to address his daughter as you instead of thou for the next three months. By Victor Hugo Months Immense Reserve Fund Wrath

Are you what is called a lucky man? Well, you are sad every day. Each day has its great grief or its little care. Yesterday you were trembling for the health of one who is dear to you, today you fear for your own; tomorrow it will be an anxiety about money, the next day the slanders of a calumniator, the day after the misfortune of a friend; then the weather, then something broken or lost, then a pleasure for which you are reproached by your conscience or your vertebral column; another time, the course of public affairs. Not to mention heartaches. And so on. One cloud is dissipated, another gathers. Hardly one day in a hundred of unbroken joy and sunshine. And you are of that small number who are lucky! As for other men, stagnant night is upon them. By Victor Hugo Day Man Called Lucky Sad

But secondly you say 'society must exact vengeance, and society must punish'. Wrong on both counts. Vengeance comes from the individual and punishment from God. By Victor Hugo Society Punish Exact Vengeance God

Release is not the same as liberation. You get out of jail, all right, but you never stop being condemned. By Victor Hugo Release Liberation Jail Condemned Stop

The future belongs to hearts even more than it does to minds. Love, that is the only thing that can occupy and fill eternity. In the infinite, the inexhaustible is requisite.Love participates of the soul itself. It is of the same nature. Like it, it is the divine spark; like it, it is incorruptible, indivisible, imperishable. It is a point of fire that exists within us, which is immortal and infinite, which nothing can confine, and which nothing can extinguish. We feel it burning even to the very marrow of our bones, and we see it beaming in the very depths of heaven. By Victor Hugo Minds Future Belongs Hearts Infinite

What did they want, those violent man, ragged, bellowing and wild-eyed, who with clubs and pikes poured through the ancient streets of distracted Paris? They wanted to put an end to oppression, tyranny, and the sword, they wanted work for all men, education for their children, security for their wives, liberty, equality, fraternity, food enough to go round, freedom of thought, the edenization of the world. In a word they wanted progress, that hallowed, good, and gentle thing, and they demanded it in a terrible fashion with oaths on their lips and weapons in their hands. They were barbarous, yes; but barbarians in the cause of civilization. By Victor Hugo Paris Ragged Wanted Man Bellowing

The poor young man must work for his bread; he eats; when he has eaten, he has nothing left but reverie. He enters God's theater free; he sees the sky, space, the stars, the flowers, the children, the humanity in which he suffers, the creation in which he shines. He looks at humanity so much that he sees the soul, he looks at creation so much that he sees God. He dreams, he feels that he is great; he dreams some more, and he feels that he is tender. From the egotism of the suffering man, he passes to the compassion of the contemplating man. A wonderful feeling springs up within him, forgetfulness of self, and pity for all. In thinking of the countless enjoyments nature offers, gives, and gives lavishly to open souls and refuses to closed souls, he, a millionaire of intelligence, comes to grieve for the millionaires of money. All hatred leaves his heart as all light enters his mind. And is he unhappy? No. The poverty of a young man is never miserable. By Victor Hugo Man God Bread Eats Eaten

Isn't there in every human soul...an initial spark, a divine element, incorruptible in this world, immortal in the next, that good can bring out, prime, ignite, set on fire and cause to blaze splendidly, and that evil can never extinguish? By Victor Hugo Prime Ignite Soul Spark Element

Let us fight.Let us fight, but let us discriminate. The characteristic of truth is never to be extreme. What need has it to exaggerate? There is that which needs to be destroyed, and there is that which simply needs to be elucidated and examined. Well intentioned and serious examination, that is a force to be reckoned with! Let us not put to the torch where it is enough to bring light. By Victor Hugo Fight Discriminate Fightlet Extreme Characteristic

For that matter," said Toussaint, "it's true. We would be assassinated before we'd have time to say Boo!And then, since Monsieur doesn't sleep in the house. But don't be afraid, mademoiselle, I fasten the windows likeBastilles. Women alone ! I'm sure that's enough to make us shudder! Just imagine! To see men come into the roomat night and say Hush ! to you and set themselves about cutting your throat. It isn't so much the dying, peopledie, that's all right, we know very well that we have to die, but it is the horror of having such people touch yhaving such people touch you. And then their knives, they must cut badly ! 0 God ! By Victor Hugo Toussaint Matter True Boo Monsieur

Their own destiny is a far-off thing to them ... One declines, descends, trickles away, even crumbles away, and yet is hardly conscious of it one's self. It always ends, it is true, in an awakening, but the awakening is tardy. In the meantime, it seems as though we held ourselves neutral in the game which is going on between our happiness and our unhappiness. We are the stake, and we look on at the game with indifference. By Victor Hugo Destiny Faroff Thing Game Awakening

Man is at the mercy of events. Life is a perpetual succession of events, and we must submit to it. We never know from what quarter the sudden blow of chance will come. Catastrophe and good fortune come upon us and then depart, like unexpected visitors. They have their own laws, their own orbits, their own gravitational force, all independent of man. By Victor Hugo Events Mercy Man Life Perpetual

God in his harmony has equal endsFor cedar that resists and reed that bends;For good it is a woman sometimes rules,Holds in her hand the power, and manners, schools,And laws, and mind; succeeding master proud,With gentle voice and smiles she leads the crowd,The somber human troop. By Victor Hugo God Bends Power Manners Schoolsand

I encountered in the street a penniless young man who was in love. His hat was old and his jacket worn, with holes at the elbows; water soaked through his shoes, but starlight flooded through his soul. By Victor Hugo Love Encountered Street Penniless Young

The barber ran to the broken window, and saw Gavroche, who was running with all his might towards the Saint Jean market. On passing the barber's shop, Gavroche, who had the two children on his mind, could not resist the desire to bid him "good day", and had sent a stone through his sash."See!" screamed the barber, who from white had become blue, "he makes mischief. What has anybody done to this Gamin? By Victor Hugo Gavroche Barber Saint Jean Window

Cosette, in her seclusion, like Marius in his, was all ready to take fire. Destiny, with its mysterious and fatal patience, was slowly bringing these two beings near each other, fully charged and all languishing with the stormy electricities of passion, - these two souls which held love as two clouds hold lightning, and which were to meet and mingle in a glace like clouds in a flash.The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only. The rest is only the rest, and comes afterwards. Nothing is more real than these great shocks which two souls give each other in exchanging this spark.At that particular moment when Cosette unconsciously looked with this glance which so affected Marius, Marius had no suspicion that he also had a glance which affected Cosette. By Victor Hugo Marius Love Cosette Glance Seclusion

As we have said, robust souls are sometimes almost, but not entirely, overthrown by strokes of misfortune ... Despair has steps leading upward. From total depression we rise to despondency, from despondency to affliction, from affliction to melancholy. Melancholy is a twilight state in which suffering transmutes into a somber joy ... Melancholy is the enjoyment of being sad. By Victor Hugo Robust Overthrown Misfortune Melancholy Souls

Sacrificing earth to paradise is like leaving your fortune to a corpse. I'm not that stupid. Duped by the Infinite! I am nothing; I call myself Count Nothing, the senator. Did I exist before my birth? No. Will I after my death? No. What am I? A little dust surrounding an organism. What do I have to do on this earth? I have the choice of pain or pleasure. Where will pain lead me? To nothing. But I will have suffered. Where will pleasure lead me? To nothing. But I will have enjoyed. My choice is made. I must eat or be eaten, and I choose to eat. It is better to be the tooth than the grass. That's my philosophy. By Victor Hugo Sacrificing Corpse Paradise Leaving Fortune

Principal courtyard, which was very large, with walks encircling it under arcades in the old Florentine fashion, and gardens planted with magnificent trees. In the dining-room, a long and superb gallery which was situated on the ground-floor and opened on the gardens, M. Henri Puget had entertained in state, on July 29, 1714, My Lords Charles Brulart de Genlis, archbishop; Prince d'Embrun; Antoine de Mesgrigny, the capuchin, Bishop of Grasse; Philippe de Vendome, Grand Prior of France, Abbe of Saint Honore de Lerins; Francois de Berton de Crillon, bishop, Baron de Vence; Cesar de Sabran de Forcalquier, bishop, Seignor of Glandeve; and Jean Soanen, Priest of the Oratory, preacher in ordinary to the king, bishop, Seignor of Senez. The portraits of these seven reverend personages decorated this apartment; and this memorable date, the 29th of July, 1714, was there engraved in letters of gold on a table of white marble. By Victor Hugo Bishop Florentine Seignor July Gardens

When the nettle is young, the leaves make excellent greens; when it grows old it has filaments and fibers like hemp and flax. Cloth made from the nettle is as good as that made from hemp. Chopped up, the nettle is good for poultry; pounded, it is good for horned cattle. The seed of the nettle mixed with the fodder of animals gives a luster to their skin; the root, mixed with salt, produces a beautiful yellow dye. It makes, however, excellent hay, as it can be cut twice in a season. And what does the nettle need? very little soil, no care, no culture; except that the seeds fall as fast as they ripen, and it is difficult to gather them; that is all. If we would take a little pains, the nettle would be useful; we neglect it, and it becomes harmful. Then we kill it. How much men are like the nettle! My friends, remember this, that there are no weeds, and no worthless men, there are only bad farmers. By Victor Hugo Nettle Good Hemp Young Greens

Slowly he took out the clothes in which, ten years beforem Cosette had left Montfermeil; first the little dress, then the black scarf, then the great heavy child's shoes Cosette could still almost have worn, so small was her foot, then the vest of very thich fustian, then the knitted petticoat, the the apron with pockets, then the wool stockings ... Then his venerable white head fell on the bed, this old stoical heart broke, his face was swallowed up, so to speak, in Cosette's clothes, and anybody who had passed along the staircase at that moment would have heard irrepressible sobbing. By Victor Hugo Cosette Montfermeil Clothes Slowly Ten

Justice has its anger, my lord Bishop, and the wrath of justice is an element of progress. Whatever else may be said of it, the French Revolution was the greatest step forward by mankind since the coming of Christ. It was unfinished, I agree, but still it was sublime. It released the untapped springs of society; it softened hearts, appeased, tranquilized, enlightened, and set flowing through the world the tides of civilization. It was good. The French Revolution was the anointing of humanity. By Victor Hugo Justice Bishop French Revolution Anger

her nose was not handsome - it was pretty; neither straight nor curved, neither Italian nor Greek; it was the Parisian nose, that is to say, spiritual, delicate, irregular, pure, - which drives painters to despair, and charms poets. By Victor Hugo Spiritual Delicate Irregular Pure Greek

Look not at the face, young girl, look at the heart. The heart of a handsome youngman is often deformed. There are hearts in which love does not keep. Young girl, thepine is not beautiful; it is not beautiful like the poplar, but it keeps its foliage inwinter. By Victor Hugo Young Girl Face Heart Beautiful

The great acts of love are done by those who are habitually performing small acts of kindness. By Victor Hugo Acts Kindness Great Love Habitually

Tomorrow, at dawn, the moment the countryside is washed with daylight,I will leave. You see, I know that you wait for me.I will go through forest, I will go across the mountains.I cannot rest far from you for long.I will trudge on, my eyes fixed on my thoughts,Without seeing what is outside of myself, without hearing a single sound,Alone, unknown, back bent, hands crossed,Sad, and the day for me will be like the night.I will not look upon the golden sunset as night falls,Nor the sailboats from afar that descend on Harfleur,And when I arrive, I will place on your graveA bouquet of holly and heather in bloom. By Victor Hugo Tomorrow Dawn Leave Moment Countryside

The book the reader has now before his eyes - from one end to the other, in its whole and in its details, whatever the omissions, the exceptions, or the faults - is the march from evil to good, from injustice to justice, from the false to the true, from night to day, from appetite to conscience, from rottenness to life, from brutality to duty, from Hell to Heaven, from nothingness to God. Starting point: matter; goal: the soul. Hydra at the beginning, angel at the end. By Victor Hugo Heaven God Hell Eyes Details

Grantaire, earthbound in doubt, loved to watch Enjolras soaring in the upper air of faith. He needed Enjolras. Without being fully aware of it, or seeking to account for it himself, he was charmed by that chaste, upright, inflexible and candid nature. By Victor Hugo Grantaire Enjolras Earthbound Doubt Loved

Humanity is identity. All men are made of the same clay. No difference, here below at least, in predestination. The same darkness before, the same flesh during, the same ashes after. But when ignorance is mixed with human dough, it blackens it. This incurable blackness takes over man's insides and there turns into evil ... Destroy the dark hold, Ignorance, and you destroy the mole, Crime. By Victor Hugo Humanity Identity Ignorance Destroy Crime

Promise to give me a kiss on my brow when I am dead. I shall feel it."She dropped her head again on Marius' knees, and her eyelids closed. He thought the poor soul had departed. Eponine remained motionless. All at once, at the very moment when Marius fancied her asleep forever, she slowly opened her eyes in which appeared the sombre profundity of death, and said to him in a tone whose sweetness seemed already to proceed from another world:"And by the way, Monsieur Marius, I believe that I was a little bit in love with you. By Victor Hugo Promise Dead Give Kiss Brow

The utmost extremity of degradation is the obscene merriment to which it gives rise. By Victor Hugo Rise Utmost Extremity Degradation Obscene

He sought not to efface sorrow by forgetfulness, but to magnify and dignify it by hope. He said: - Have a care of the manner in which you turn towards the dead. Think not of that which perishes. Gaze steadily. You will perceive the living light of your well-beloved dead in the depths of heaven. By Victor Hugo Forgetfulness Hope Sought Efface Sorrow

Thus he shut himself up, he lived there, he was absolutely satisfied with it, leaving on one side the prodigious questions which attract and terrify, the fathomless perspectives of abstraction, the precipices of metaphysics - all those profundities which converge, for the apostle in God, for the atheist in nothingness; destiny, good and evil, the way of being against being, the conscience of man, the thoughtful somnambulism of the animal, the transformation in death, the recapitulation of existences which the tomb contains, the incomprehensible grafting of successive loves on the persistent I, the essence, the substance, the Nile, and the Ens, the soul, nature, liberty, necessity; perpendicular problems, sinister obscurities, where lean the gigantic archangels of the human mind; formidable By Victor Hugo God Nile Ens Destiny Nature

Now for my pains, promise me-"And she hesitated."What?" asked Marius."Promise me!""I promise you.""Promise to kiss me on the forehead when I'm dead. I'll feel it."She let her head fall back on Marius's knees and her eyelids closed. He thought the poor soul had gone. Eponine lay motionless, but just when Marius supposed her forever asleep, she slowly opened her eyes, revealing the somber depths of death, and said to him in an accent whose sweetness already seemed to come from another world, "And then, do you know, Monsieur Marius, I believe I was a little in love with you."She tried to smile again and died. By Victor Hugo Promise Marius Marius Pains Hesitated

She let her head fall back upon Marius' knees and her eyelids closed. He thought that poor soul had gone. Eponine lay motionless; but just when Marius supposed her for ever asleep, she slowly opened her eyes in which the gloomy deepness of death appeared, and said to him with an accent the sweetness on which already seemed to come from another world:"And then, do you know, Monsieur Marius, I believe I was a little in love with you."She essayed to smile again and expired. By Victor Hugo Marius Closed Marius Head Fall

It all seemed to him to have disappeared as if behind a curtain at a theater. There are such curtains that drop in life. God is moving on to the next act. By Victor Hugo Theater Disappeared Life Curtain Curtains

Having love means not losing the light.And what love!Love entirely pure.Blindness does not exist where there is certainty.The soul gropes for another soul-and finds it.And this soul found and tried and tested is a woman.A hand supports you,it is hers;lips brush your forehead,hers;you hear breathing right next to you,it is her breathing.To have all of her,from her devotion to her sympathy,never to be abandoned,to have that sweet frailty that succours you,to lean on such an unshakable reed,to touch Providence with your own hands and hold it in your arms. By Victor Hugo Love Youit Providence Soul Lips

The episcopal palace was a huge and beautiful house, built of stone at the beginning of the last century by M. Henri Puget, Doctor of Theology of the Faculty of Paris, Abbe of Simore, who had been Bishop of D - in 1712. This palace was a genuine seignorial residence. Everything about it had a grand air, - the apartments of the Bishop, the drawing-rooms, the chambers, the principal courtyard, which was very large, with walks encircling it under arcades in the old Florentine fashion, and gardens planted with magnificent trees. In the dining-room, a long and superb gallery which was situated on the ground-floor and opened on the gardens, M. Henri Puget had entertained in state, on July 29, 1714, My Lords Charles Brulart de Genlis, archbishop; Prince By Victor Hugo Doctor Paris Abbe Simore Theology

Love is all very well; but there must be something else to go with it. The useless must be mingled with happiness. Happiness is only the necessary. Season that enormously with the superfluous for me. A palace and her heart. Her heart and the Louvre. Her heart and the grand waterworks of Versailles. Give me my shepherdess and try to make her a duchess. Fetch me Phyllis crowned with corn-flowers, and add a hundred thousand francs income. Open for me a bucolic perspective as far as you can see, beneath a marble colonnade. I consent to the bucolic and also to the fairy spectacle of marble and gold. Dry happiness resembles dry bread. One eats, but one does not dine. I want the superfluous, the useless, the extravagant, excess, that which serves no purpose. By Victor Hugo Heart Happiness Love Useless Superfluous

Love, the future is thine. Death, I make use of thee, but I hate thee. Citizens, in the future there will be neither darkness nor thunderbolts; neither ferocious ignorance, nor bloody retaliation. As there will be no more Satan, there will be no more Michael. In the future no one will kill any one else, the earth will beam with radiance, the human race will love. The day will come, citizens, when all will be concord, harmony, light, joy and life; it will come, and it is in order that is may come that we are about to die. By Victor Hugo Future Thine Thee Citizens Love

Love, thine is the future. Death, I use thee, but I hate thee. Citizens, there shall be in the future neither darkness nor thunderbolts; neither ferocious ignorance nor blood for blood. By Victor Hugo Love Thine Thee Death Future

One may feel a certain indifference to the death penalty, one may refrain from pronouncing upon it, from saying yes or no, so long as one has not seen a guillotine with one's own eyes: but if one encounters one of them, the shock is violent; one is forced to decide, and to take part for or against. Some By Victor Hugo Penalty Eyes Violent Decide Feel

We must never fear robbers or murderers. They are dangers from outside, small dangers. It is ourselves we have to fear. Prejudice is the real robber, vice the real murderer. Why should we be troubled by a threat to our person or our pocket? What we have to beware of is the threat to our souls'. By Victor Hugo Fear Dangers Real Threat Murderers

The sadness which reigned everywhere was but an excuse for unfailing kindness. By Victor Hugo Kindness Sadness Reigned Excuse Unfailing

The unforeseen, that strange, haughty power which plays with man, had seized Gauvain and held him fast. By Victor Hugo Gauvain Unforeseen Strange Haughty Man

That night, before going to bed, he went on to say, 'Never be afraid of thieves and murderers. They represent the dangers without, which are not worth worrying about. Be afraid of ourselves. Prejudices are the real thieves, vices are the murderers. The greatest dangers are within us. Who cares who threatens our heads or our purses! Let's think only of what threatens our souls. By Victor Hugo Afraid Night Bed Murderers Thieves

In better company, they found among all those hideous carcasses two skeletons, one of which held the other in its embrace. One of these skeletons, which was that of a woman, still had a few strips of a garment which had once been white, and around her neck was to be seen a string of adrezarach beads with a little silk bag ornamented with green glass, which was open and empty. These objects were of so little value that the executioner had probably not cared for them. The other, which held this one in a close embrace, was the skeleton of a man. It was noticed that his spinal column was crooked, his head seated on his shoulder blades, and that one leg was shorter than the other. Moreover, there was no fracture of the vertebrae at the nape of the neck, and it was evident that he had not been hanged. Hence, the man to whom it had belonged had come thither and had died there. When they tried to detach the skeleton which he held in his embrace, he fell to dust. By Victor Hugo Embrace Held Company Found Hideous

The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves. By Victor Hugo Loved Greatest Happiness Life Conviction

Humanity is identity. All men are the same clay. No difference, here below at least, in predestination. The same darkness before, the same flesh during, the same ashes after life. But ignorance, mixed with the human composition, blackens it. This incurable ignorance possesses the heart of man, and there becomes evil. By Victor Hugo Humanity Identity Ignorance Clay Men

Monsieur' to a convict is a glass of water to a man dying of thirst at sea; ignominy thirsts for respect. By Victor Hugo Monsieur Sea Ignominy Respect Convict

These Greek capitals, black with age, and quite deeply graven in the stone, with I know not what signs peculiar to Gothic calligraphy imprinted upon their forms and upon their attitudes, as though with the purpose of revealing that it had been a hand of the Middle Ages which had inscribed them there, and especially the fatal and melancholy meaning contained in them, struck the author deeply. By Victor Hugo Deeply Greek Gothic Middle Capitals

War has frightful beauties which we have not concealed; it has also, we acknowledge, some hideous features. One of the most surprising is the prompt stripping of the bodies of the dead after the victory. The dawn which follows a battle always rises on naked corpses. By Victor Hugo War Concealed Acknowledge Features Frightful

And must I now begin to doubt - who never doubted all these years? My heart is stone, and still it trembles. The world I have known is lost in the shadows. Is he from heaven or from hell? And does he know, that granting me my life today, this man has killed me, even so.- Javert By Victor Hugo Doubt Years Begin Doubted Javert

Darks drifts covered the horizon. A strange shadow approaching nearer and nearer, was spreading little by little over men, over things, over ideas; a shadow which came from indignations and from systems. All that had been hurriedly stifled was stirring and fermenting. Sometimes the conscious of the honest man caught its breath, there was so much confusion in that air in which sophisms were mingled with truths. Minds trembled in the social anxiety like leaves at the approach of the storm. The electric tension was so great that at certain moments any chance-comer, thought unknown, flashed out. Then the twilight darkness fell again. At intervals, deep and sullen mutterings enabled men to judge of the amount of lightning in the cloud. By Victor Hugo Darks Horizon Drifts Covered Shadow

In the case of sand as in that of woman, there is a fineness which is treacherous. By Victor Hugo Woman Treacherous Case Sand Fineness

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only. By Victor Hugo Love Stories Power Glance Abused

Separated lovers cheat absence by a thousand fancies which have their own reality. They are prevented from seeing one another and they cannot write; nevertheless they find countless mysterious ways of corresponding, by sending each other the song of birds, the scent of flowers, the laughter of children, the light of the sun, the sighing of the wind, and the gleam of the stars -all the beauties of creation. By Victor Hugo Separated Reality Lovers Cheat Absence

If there is anything more poignant than a body agonizing for want of bread, it is a soul dying for hunger of light. By Victor Hugo Bread Light Poignant Body Agonizing

In the morning, when he entered my room, I grumbled, but he was like the sunlight to me, all the same. One cannot defend oneself against those brats. They take hold of you, they hold you fast, they never let you go again. The truth is, that there never was a cupid like that child. By Victor Hugo Morning Room Grumbled Entered Sunlight

The night was serene. Not a cloud was in the zenith. What mattered is that the earth was red, the moon retained her whiteness. Such is the indifference of heaven. By Victor Hugo Serene Night Zenith Cloud Red

Joly, perceiving a cat prowling on a gutter, extracted philosophy from it. "What is the cat?" he exclaimed. "It is a corrective. The good God, having made the mouse, said: 'Hullo! I have committed a blunder.' And so he made the cat. The cat is the erratum of the mouse. The mouse, plus the cat, is the proof of creation revised and corrected. By Victor Hugo Cat Mouse Joly Perceiving Gutter

Nothing is more dangerous than to stop working. It is a habit that can soon be lost, one that is easily neglected and hard to resume. A measure of day-dreaming is a good thing, like a drug prudently used; it allays the sometimes virulent fever of the over-active mind, like a cool wind blowing through the brain to smooth the harshness of untrammelled thought; it bridges here and there the gaps, brings things into proportion and blunts the sharper angles. But too much submerges and drowns. Woe to the intellectual worker who allows himself to lapse wholly from positive thinking into day-dreaming. He thinks he can easily change back, and tells himself that it is all one. He is wrong! Thought is the work of the intellect, reverie is its self-indulgence. To substitute day-dreaming for thought is to confuse poison with a source of nourishment. By Victor Hugo Working Daydreaming Thought Dangerous Stop

Science is continually correcting what it has said. Fertile corrections ... science is a ladder ... poetry is a winged flight ... An artistic masterpiece exists for all time ... Dante does not efface Homer. By Victor Hugo Science Continually Correcting Homer Fertile

Particularly at those moments when we have the sorest need of grasping the sharp realities of life do the threads of thought snap off in the brain. By Victor Hugo Brain Moments Sorest Grasping Sharp

It is chiefly at the moment when there is the greatest need for attaching them to the painful realities of life, that the threads of thought snap within the brain. By Victor Hugo Life Brain Chiefly Moment Greatest

I exist," murmurs someone whose name is Everyone. "I'm young and in love; I am old and I want rest; I work, I prosper, I do good business, I have houses to rent, money in State Securities; I am happy, I have wife and children; I like all these things and I want to go on living, so leave me alone." ... There are moments when all this casts a deep chill on the large-minded pioneers of the human race. By Victor Hugo Exist Murmurs Securities State Love

England has two books, the Bible and Shakespeare. England made Shakespeare,but the Bible made England. By Victor Hugo Shakespeare Bible England Books Shakespearebut

But alas, if I have not maintained my victory, it is God's fault for not making man and the devil of equal strength. By Victor Hugo God Alas Victory Strength Maintained

She had spears of straw and grass in her hair, not like Ophelia gone mad through contact with Hamlet's madness, but because she had slept in some stable loft. By Victor Hugo Ophelia Hamlet Hair Madness Loft

The jostling of young minds against each other has this wonderful attribute that one can never foresee the spark, nor predict the flash. What will spring up in a moment? Nobody knows. A burst of laughter starts from a scene of emotion. In a moment of buffoonery, the serious enters. Impulses depend on a chance word. The spirit of each is sovereign. A jest suffices to open the door to the unexpected. They are conferences with sharp turns, where the perspective suddenly changes. Chance is the director of these conversations. By Victor Hugo Spark Flash Jostling Young Minds

It has been calculated that what with salvos, royal and military politeness, courteous exchanges of uproar, signals of etiquette, formalities of roadsteads and citadels, sunrises and sunsets, saluted every day by all fortresses and all ships of war, openings and closings of ports, etc., the civilized world, discharged all over the earth, in the course of four and twenty hours, one hundred and fifty thousand useless shots. At six francs a shot, that comes to nine hundred thousand francs a day, three hundred millions a year, which vanish in smoke. This is a mere details. All this time the poor were dying of hunger. By Victor Hugo Hundred Etc Day Thousand Salvos

Common right is nought but the protection of all radiating over the right of each. This protection of all is termed Fraternity. The point of intersection of all these aggregated sovereignties is called Society. This intersection being a junction, this point is a knot. Hence comes what is called the social tie. By Victor Hugo Protection Common Nought Radiating Fraternity

The death agony of the barricade was about to begin.For, since the preceding evening, the two rows of houses in the Rue de la Chanvrerie had become two walls; ferocious walls, doors closed, windows closed, shutters closed. A house is an escarpment, a door is a refusal, a facade is a wall. This wall hears, sees and will not. It might open and save you. No. This wall is a judge. It gazes at you and condemns you. What dismal things are closed houses. By Victor Hugo Rue Chanvrerie Closed Wall Beginfor

For with love there is no middle course: it destroys, or else it saves. All human destiny is contained in that dilemma, the choice between destruction and salvation, which is nowhere more implacably posed than in love. Love is life, or it is death. It is the cradle, but also the coffin. One and the same impulse moves the human heart to say yes or no. Of all things God has created it is the human heart that sheds the brightest light and, alas, the blackest despair. By Victor Hugo Love Human Destroys Saves Middle

Going about one's native land one is inclined to take many things for granted, roads and buildings, roofs, windows and doorways, the walls that shelter strangers, the house one has never entered, trees which are like other trees, pavements which are no more than cobblestones. But when we are distant from them we find that those things have become dear to us, a street, trees and roofs, blank walls, doors and windows; we have entered those houses without knowing it, we have left something of our heart in the very stonework. Those places we no longer see, perhaps will never see again but still remember, have acquired and aching charm; they return to us with the melancholy of ghosts, a hallowed vision and as it were the true face of France. We love and evoke them such as they were; and such as to us they still are, we cling to them and will not have them altered, for the face of our country is our mother's face. By Victor Hugo Trees Roofs Things Windows Walls

Large, heavy, ragged black clouds hung like crape hammocks beneath the starry cope of the night. You would have said that they were the cobwebs of the firmament. By Victor Hugo Large Heavy Ragged Night Black

Shall we continue to raise our eyes to heaven? is the luminous point which we distinguish there one of those which vanish? The ideal is frightful to behold, thus lost in the depths, small, isolated, imperceptible, brilliant, but surrounded by those great, black menaces, monstrously heaped around it; yet no more in danger than a star in the maw of the clouds. By Victor Hugo Heaven Vanish Continue Raise Eyes

But for the matter of that, Ursus, although eccentric in manner and disposition, was too good a fellow to invoke or disperse hail, to make faces appear, to kill a man with the torment of excessive dancing, to suggest dreams fair or foul and full of terror, and to cause the birth of cocks with four wings. He had no such mischievous tricks. By Victor Hugo Ursus Disposition Hail Dancing Terror

The reduction of the universe to the compass of a single being, and the extension of a single being until it reaches God - that is love. Love is the salute of the angels to the stars.How sad is the heart when rendered sad by love!How great is the void created by the absence of the being who alone fills the world. By Victor Hugo Single God Love Reduction Universe

If anything is horrible, if there is a reality that surpasses our worst dreams, it is this: to live, to see the sun, to be in full possession of manly vigor, to have health and joy, to laugh heartily, to rush toward a glory that lures you on, to feel lungs that breathe, a heart that beats, a mind that thinks, to speak, to hope, to love; to have mother, wife, children, to have sunlight, and suddenly, in less time than it takes to cry out, to plunge into an abyss, to fall, to roll, to crush, to be crushed, to see the heads of grain, the flowers, the leaves, the branches, unable to catch hold of anything, to feel your sword useless, men under you, horses over you, to struggle in vain, your bones broken by some kick in the darkness, to feel a heel gouging your eyes out of their sockets, raging at the horseshoe between your teeth, to stifle, to howl, to twist, to be under all this, and to say, 'Just then I was a living man! By Victor Hugo Feel Wife Children Horrible Dreams

They appeared very corrupt and very depraved, no doubt, very vile, very odious even; but those who fall without becoming degraded are rare; besides, there is a point where the unfortunate and the infamous unite and are confounded in a single word, a fatal word, the miserable; whose fault is this? And then should not the charity be all the more profound, in proportion as the fall is great? By Victor Hugo Word Depraved Doubt Vile Rare

There is a point, moreover, at which the unfortunate and the infamous are associated and confounded in a single word, Les Miserables; whose fault is it? And then, is it not when the fall is lowest that charity ought to be greatest? By Victor Hugo Les Miserables Point Word Unfortunate

Up to that time, the Republic, the Empire, had been to him only monstrous words. The Republic, a guillotine in the twilight; the Empire, a sword in the night. He had just taken a look at it, and where he had expected to find only a chaos of shadows, he had beheld, with a sort of unprecedented surprise, mingled with fear and joy, stars sparkling ... By Victor Hugo Republic Empire Time Words Monstrous

To attempt, to brave, to persist, and persevere, to be faithful to one's self, to wrestle with destiny, to astound the catastrophe by the slight fear which is causes us, now to confront unjust power, again to insult intoxicated victory, to hold firm and withstand such is the example which nations need and the light which electrifies them. By Victor Hugo Attempt Brave Persist Persevere Destiny

She was sad with an obscure sadness of which she had not the secret herself. There was in her whole person the stupor of a life ended but never commenced. By Victor Hugo Sad Obscure Sadness Secret Commenced

The cry: Audacity! is a Fiat lux. It is necessary, for the sake of the forward march of the human race, that there should be proud lessons of courage permanently on the heights. Daring deeds dazzle history and are one of man's great sources of light. The dawn dares when it rises. To attempt, to brave, to persist, to persevere, to be faithful to one's self, to grasp fate bodily, to astound catastrophe by the small amount of fear that it occasions us, now to affront unjust power, again to insult drunken victory, to hold one's position, to stand one's ground; that is the example which nations need, that is the light which electrifies them. The same formidable lightning proceeds from the torch of Prometheus to Cambronne's short pipe. By Victor Hugo Audacity Fiat Cry Lux Light

It is necessary, for the sake of the forward march of the human race, that there should be proud lessons of courage permanently on the heights. Daring deeds dazzle history and are one of man's great sources of light. The dawn dares when it rises. To attempt, to brave, to persist, to persevere, to be faithful to one's self, to grasp fate bodily, to astound catastrophe by the small amount of fear that it occasions us, now to affront unjust power, again to insult drunken victory, to hold one's position, to stand one's ground; that is the example which nations need, that is the light which electrifies them. By Victor Hugo Race Heights Sake Forward March

Well, for us, in history where goodness is a rare pearl, he who was good almost takes precedence over he who was great. By Victor Hugo Pearl Great History Goodness Rare

A minute afterwards he appeared upon the upper platform, still bearing the gipsy [sic] in his arms, still running wildly along, still shouting 'Sanctuary!' and the crowd still applauding. At last he made a third appearance on the summit of the tower of the great bell. From thence he seemed to show exultingly to the whole city the fair creature he had saved; and his thundering voice, that voice which was heard so seldom, and which he never heard at all, thrice repeated with frantic vehemence, even in the very clouds, 'Sactuary! Sanctuary! Sanctuary! The Hunchback of Notre Dame By Victor Hugo Sanctuary Sic Platform Gipsy Arms

Why, there's the air, the sky, the morning, the evening, moonlight, my friends, women, the beautiful architecture of Paris to study, three big books to write and all sorts of other things. Anaxagoras used to say that he was in the world in order to admire the sun. And then I have the good fortune to be able to spend my days from morning to night in the company of a man of genius - myself - and it's very pleasant. By Victor Hugo Paris Moonlight Women Air Sky

They were thirsty; this Guillaume brought them water. It was from this well that he drew it. Many drank there their last draught. This well where drank so many of the dead was destined to die itself. After the engagement, they were in haste to bury the dead bodies. Death has a fashion of harassing victory, and she causes the pest to follow glory. The typhus is a concomitant of triumph. This well was deep, and it was turned into a sepulchre. Three hundred dead bodies were cast into it. With too much haste perhaps. Were they all dead? Legend says they were not. It seems that on the night succeeding the interment, feeble voices were heard calling from the well. This well is isolated in the middle By Victor Hugo Guillaume Dead Thirsty Water Brought

This is not my house; it is the house of Jesus Christ. This door does not demand of him who enters whether he has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer, you are hungry and thirsty; you are welcome. And do not thank me; do not say that I receive you in my house. No one is at home here, except the man who needs a refuge. I say to you, who are passing by, that you are much more at home here than I am myself. By Victor Hugo Christ Jesus House Home Grief

To love or have loved is enough. Don't ask for anything more. There is no other pearl to be found in the shadowy folds of life. To love is an achievement. By Victor Hugo Loved Love Life Achievement Pearl

He caught her, she fell, he caught her in his arms, he held her tightly unconscious of what he was doing. He held her up, though tottering himself. He felt as if his head were filled with smoke; flashes of light slipped through his eyelids; his thoughts vanished; it seemed to him that he was performing a religious act, and that he was committing a profanation. Moreover, he did not feel one passionate desire for this ravishing woman, whose form he felt against his heart. He was lost in love. By Victor Hugo Caught Held Fell Arms Tightly

He had never known a "kind woman friend" in his native parts. He had not had the time to fall in love. By Victor Hugo Kind Friend Parts Woman Native

Such is the remorseless progression of human society, shedding lives and souls as it goes on its way. It is an ocean into which men sink who have been cast out by the law and consigned, with help most cruelly withheld, to moral death. The sea is the pitiless social darkness into which the penal system casts those it has condemned, an unfathomable waste of misery. The human soul, lost in those depths, may become a corpse. Who shall revive it? By Victor Hugo Society Shedding Remorseless Progression Lives

Good! And what if you should happen to cough or to sneeze?" "A man who is making his escape does not cough or sneeze. By Victor Hugo Good Sneeze Cough Happen Man

To be granite and to doubt! To be the statue of Chastisement cast in one piece in the mould of the law, and suddenly to become aware of the fact that one cherishes beneath one's breast of bronze something absurd and disobedient which almost resembles a heart! To come to the pass of returning good for good, although one has said to oneself up to that day that that good is evil! To be the watch-dog, and to lick the intruder's hand! To be ice and melt! To be the pincers and to turn into a hand! To suddenly feel one's fingers opening! To relax one's grip, - what a terrible thing! By Victor Hugo Good Doubt Granite Hand Chastisement

To introduce a new play only six weeks after another has been banned is also a way to speak one's piece to the government. It proves that art and liberty can grow back in one night under the clumsy foot which crushes them. By Victor Hugo Government Introduce Play Weeks Banned

Man has a tyrant, ignorance. I voted for the demise of that particular tyrant. That particular tyrant has engendered royalty, which is authority based on falsehood, whereas science is authority based on truth. Man should be governed by science alone.""And conscience," added the bishop."It's the same thing. Conscience is the quota of innate science we each have inside us. By Victor Hugo Ignorance Tyrant Man Science Authority

No one pries as effectively into other people's business as those whose business it most definitely is not ... What for? For nothing. For the sake of finding out, knowing, penetrating the mystery. Out of an itching need to be able to tell. And often, once these secrets are out, the mysteries broadcast, the enigmas exposed to the light of day, they lead to catastrophe, duels, bankruptcies, ruined families, shattered existences-to the great joy of those who "got to the bottom of it all" for no apparent reason and through sheer instinct. Sad. Some people are malicious out of a simple need to have something to say. Their conversation, parlour talk, antechamber gossip, is reminiscent of those fireplaces that swiftly go through the wood-they need a lot of fuel and the fuel is their neighbour. By Victor Hugo Business Pries Effectively People Fuel

And confronting these men, wild and terrible as we agree that they were, there were men of quite another kind, smiling and adorned with ribbons and stars, silk stockinged, yellow gloved and with polished boots; men who insisted on the preservation of the past, of the Middle Ages, of divine right, of bigotry, ignorance, enslavement, the death penalty and war, and who, talking in polished undertones, glorified the sword and the executioners' block. For our part, if we had to choose between the barbarians of civilization and those civilized upholders of barbarism we would choose the former. By Victor Hugo Men Polished Ages Middle Ignorance

Does it serve any purpose to ungild the crown of Louis XIV, to scrape the coat of arms of Henry IV? We scoff at M. de Vaublanc for erasing the N's from the bridge of Jena! What was it that he did? What are we doing? Bouvines belongs to us as well as Marengo. The fleurs-de-lys are ours as well as the N's. That is our patrimony. To what purpose shall we diminish it? We must not deny our country in the past any more than in the present. Why not accept the whole of history? Why not love the whole of France?" It By Victor Hugo Xiv Louis Henry Serve Ungild

Nihilism has no point. There is no such thing as nothingness. Zero does not exist. Everything is something. Nothing is nothing. Man By Victor Hugo Nihilism Point Nothingness Man Exist

Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when, whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees. By Victor Hugo Prayers Thoughts Body Knees Moments

Nothing can be sadder or more profound than to see a thousand things for the first and last time. To journey is to be born and die each minute ... All the elements of life are in constant flight from us, with darkness and clarity intermingled, the vision and the eclipse; we look and hasten, reaching out our hands to clutch; every happening is a bend in the road ... and suddenly we have grown old. We have a sense of shock and gathering darkness; ahead is a black doorway; the life that bore us is a flagging horse, and a veiled stranger is waiting in the shadows to unharness us. By Victor Hugo Time Sadder Profound Thousand Things

From the oyster to the eagle, from the swine to the tiger, all animals are to be found in men and each of them exists in some man, sometimes several at the time. Animals are nothing but the portrayal of our virtues and vices made manifest to our eyes, the visible reflections of our souls. God displays them to us to give us food for thought. By Victor Hugo Animals Eagle Tiger Man Time

Animals are nothing but the portrayal of our virtues and vices made manifest to our eyes, the visible reflections of our souls. By Victor Hugo Animals Eyes Souls Portrayal Virtues

Animals are nothing else than the figures of our virtues andour vices, straying before our eyes, the visible phantoms of oursouls. God shows them to us in order to induce us to reflect.Only since animals are mere shadows, God has not made themcapable of education in the full sense of the word; what is theuse? On the contrary, our souls being realities and having a210goal which is appropriate to them, God has bestowed on themintelligence; that is to say, the possibility of education. Socialeducation, when well done, can always draw from a soul, ofwhatever sort it may be, the utility which it contains. By Victor Hugo God Animals Vices Straying Eyes

To die is nothing; but it is terrible not to live. By Victor Hugo Live Die Terrible

Usually, the murmur that rises up from Paris by day is the city talking; in the night it is the city breathing; but here it is the city singing. Listen, then, to this chorus of bell-towers - diffuse over the whole the murmur of half a million people - the eternal lament of the river - the endless sighing of the wind - the grave and distant quartet of the four forests placed upon the hills, in the distance, like immense organpipes - extinguish to a half light all in the central chime that would otherwise be too harsh or too shrill; and then say whetehr you know of anything in the world more rich, more joyous, more golden, more dazzling, than this tumult of bells and chimes - this furnace of music - these thousands of brazen voices, all singing together in flutes of stone three hundred feet high, than this city which is but one orchestra - this symphony which roars like a tempest. By Victor Hugo City Paris Murmur Singing Talking

There is a sacred horror about everything grand. It is easy to admire mediocrity and hills; but whatever is too lofty, a genius as well as a mountain, an assembly as well as a masterpiece, seen too near, is appalling. Every summit seems an exaggeration. Climbing wearies. The steepnesses take away one's breath; we slip on the slopes, we are hurt by the sharp points which are its beauty; the foaming torrents betray the precipices, clouds hide the mountain tops; mounting is full of terror, as well as a fall. Hence, there is more dismay than admiration. People have a strange feeling of aversion to anything grand. They see abysses, they do not see sublimity; they see the monster, they do not see the prodigy. By Victor Hugo Sacred Horror Grand Mountain Hills

The most beautiful of altars, he said, is the soul of an unhappy creature consoled and thankfing God. By Victor Hugo God Altars Beautiful Soul Unhappy

The three great problems of this century; the degradation of man in the proletariat, the subjection of women through hunger, the atrophy of the child by darkness. By Victor Hugo Century Proletariat Hunger Darkness Great

At certain moments, the foot slips ; at others, the ground gives way. How many times had that conscience, furious for the right, grasped and overwhelmed him! How many times had truth, inexorable, planted her knee upon his breast! How many times, thrown to the ground by the light, had he cried to it for mercy! By Victor Hugo Times Moments Slips Foot Ground

Hell is an outrage on humanity. When you tell me that your deity made you in his image, I reply that he must have been very ugly. By Victor Hugo Hell Humanity Outrage Image Ugly

A sad thing! What it termed its concessions were our conquests; what it termed our encroachments were our rights. When the hour seemed to it to have come, the Restoration, supposing itself victorious over Bonaparte and well-rooted in the country, that is to say, believing itself to be strong and deep, abruptly decided on its plan of action, and risked its stroke. One morning it drew itself up before the face of France, and, elevating its voice, it contested the collective title and the individual right of the nation to sovereignty, of the citizen to liberty. In other words, it denied to the nation that which made it a nation, and to the citizen that which made him a citizen. This is the foundation of By Victor Hugo Thing Nation Citizen Termed Sad

Ah! my poor Bahorel, she is a superb girl, very literary, with tiny feet, little hands, she dresses well, and is white and dimpled, with the eyes of a fortune-teller. I am wild over her. By Victor Hugo Bahorel Girl Literary Feet Hands

My misfortune is that I still resemble a man too much. I should liked to be wholly a beast like that goat. - Quasimodo By Victor Hugo Quasimodo Misfortune Resemble Man Goat

To see so much misery everywhere, I suspect that God is not rich. He keeps up appearances, it is true, but I feel the pinch. He gives a revolution as a merchant, whose credit is low, gives a ball. By Victor Hugo God Rich Misery Suspect Appearances

Death belongs only to God. What right have men to lay hands on a thing so unknown? By Victor Hugo God Death Belongs Unknown Men

That figure stood for a long time wholly in the light; this arose from a certain legendary dimness evolved by the majority of heroes, and which always veils the truth for a longer or shorter time; but to-day history and daylight have arrived.That light called history is pitiless; it possesses this peculiar and divine quality, that, pure light as it is, and precisely because it is wholly light, it often casts a shadow in places where people had hitherto beheld rays; from the same man it constructs two different phantoms, and the one attacks the other and executes justice on it, and the shadows of the despot contend with the brilliancy of the leader. Hence arises a truer measure in the definitive judgments of nations. Babylon violated lessens Alexander, Rome enchained lessens Caesar, Jerusalem murdered lessens Titus, tyranny follows the tyrant. It is a misfortune for a man to leave behind him the night which bears his form. By Victor Hugo Light Time Wholly History Shadow

Teach those who are ignorant as many things as possible; society is culpable, in that it does not afford instruction gratis; it is responsible for the night which it produces. This soul is full of shadow; sin is therein committed. The guilty one is not the person who has committed the sin, but the person who has created the shadow. By Victor Hugo Teach Society Culpable Gratis Produces

He said, moreover, "Teach those who are ignorant as many things as possible; society is culpable, in that it does not afford instruction gratis; it is responsible for the night which it produces. This soul is full of shadow; sin is therein committed. The guilty one is not the person who has committed the sin, but the person who has created the shadow."It will be perceived that he had a peculiar manner of his own of judging things: I suspect that he obtained it from the Gospel. By Victor Hugo Teach Society Culpable Gratis Produces

I don't want your money," said she. By Victor Hugo Money

In the French language, there is a great gulf between prose and poetry; in English, there is hardly any difference. It is a splendid privilege of the great literary languages Greek, Latin, and French that they possess a prose. English has not this privilege. There is no prose in English. By Victor Hugo French English Latin Prose Poetry

The aim to which I have aspired for so many years, my nightly dream, the object of my prayers in heaven, Security- I have gained it. It is God's will. I must do nothing contrary to the will of God. And why is it God's will? That I may carry on what I have begun, that I may do good, that I may be one day a grand and encouraging example, that it may be said that there was finally some little happiness resulting from this suffering which I have undergone and this virtue to which I have returned! It is decided, let the matter alone! Let us not interfere with God! By Victor Hugo God Security Years Dream Heaven

One would say, to see all these snow-flakes fall, that there was a plague of white butterflies in heaven. By Victor Hugo Fall Heaven Snowflakes Plague White

God whose gifts in gracious floodUnto all who seek are sent,Only asks you to be goodAnd is content. By Victor Hugo God Content Gifts Gracious Floodunto

I propose a toast to mirth; be merry! Let us complete our course of law by folly and eating! Indigestion and the digest. let Justinian be the male, and Feasting, the female! Joy the depths! Live, O creation! The world is a great diamond. I am happy. The birds are astonishing. What a festival everywhere! The nightingale is a gratuitous Elleviou.Summer, I salute thee! By Victor Hugo Mirth Merry Propose Toast Feasting

One might almost say that affinities begin with the letters of the alphabet. In that sequence, O and P are inseparable. You might just as well say O and P as Orestes and Pylades. A true satellite of Enjolras, Grantaire lived within this circle of young men. He dwelt among them, only with them was he happy, he followed them everywhere. His pleasure was to watch these figures come and go in a wine-induced haze. They put up with him because of his good humour. In his belief, Enjolras looked down on this sceptic; and in his sobriety, on this drunkard. He spared him a little lordly pity. Grantaire was an unwanted Pylades. Always snubbed by Enjolras, spurned, rebuffed and back again for more, he said of Enjolras, 'What marmoreal magnificence'. By Victor Hugo Enjolras Alphabet Pylades Affinities Begin

He did not seek to assume the mantle of Elijah, to shed a light of the future upon the misty turmoil of events or resolve the prevailing light into a single flame; there was in him nothing of the prophet or the mystic. He was a simple soul who loved, and that was all. By Victor Hugo Elijah Light Flame Mystic Seek

Then, turning to his sister: Sister, never a precaution on the part of the priest, against his fellow-man. That which his fellow does, God permits. Let us confine ourselves to prayer, when we think that a danger is approaching us. Let us pray, not for ourselves, but that our brother may not fall into sin on our account. By Victor Hugo Sister Turning Priest Fellowman God

Not seeing people permits one to attribute to them all possible perfections. By Victor Hugo Perfections People Permits Attribute

Plea Against the Death PenaltyLook, examine, reflect. You hold capital punishment up as an example. Why? Because of what it teaches. And just what is it that you wish to teach by means of this example? That thou shalt not kill. And how do you teach that "thou shalt not kill"? By killing. I have examined the death penalty under each of its two aspects: as a direct action, and as an indirect one. What does it come down to? Nothing but something horrible and useless, nothing but a way of shedding blood that is called a crime when an individual commits it, but is (sadly) called "justice" when society brings it about. Make no mistake, you lawmakers and judges, in the eyes of God as in those of conscience, what is a crime when individuals do it is no less an offense when society commits the deed. By Victor Hugo Examine Reflect Plea Penaltylook Death

Should we continue to look upwards? Is the light we can see in the sky one of those which will presently be extinguished? The ideal is terrifying to behold ... brilliant but threatened on all sides by the dark forces that surround it: nevertheless, no more in danger than a star in the jaws of the clouds. By Victor Hugo Upwards Continue Extinguished Light Sky

Excess of grief, like excess of joy is a violent thing which lasts but a short time. The heart of man cannot remain long in one extremity. By Victor Hugo Excess Grief Time Joy Violent

Man has upon him his flesh, which is at once his burden and his temptation. He drags it with him and yields to it. He must watch it, cheek it, repress it, and obey it only at the last extremity. There may be some fault even in this obedience; but the fault thus committed is venial; it is a fall, but a fall on the knees which may terminate in prayer. By Victor Hugo Man Flesh Temptation Burden Fall

The Grave and The RoseThe Grave said to the Rose,"What of the dews of dawn,Love's flower, what end is theirs?""And what of spirits flown,The souls whereon doth closeThe tomb's mouth unawares?"The Rose said to the Grave.The Rose said, "In the shadeFrom the dawn's tears is madeA perfume faint and strange,Amber and honey sweet.""And all the spirits fleetDo suffer a sky-change,More strangely than the dew,To God's own angels new,"The Grave said to the Rose By Victor Hugo Rose Grave Spirits God Flower

The Parisian is to the French what the Athenian was to the Greeks: no one sleeps better than he, no one is more openly frivolous and idle, no one appears more heedless. But this is misleading. He is given to every kind of listlessness, but when there is glory to be won he may be inspired with every kind of fury. Give him a pike and he will enact the tenth of August, a musket and you have Austerlitz. He was the springboard of Napoleon and the mainstay of Danton. At the cry of "la patrie" he enrols, and at the call of liberty he tears up the pavements. Beware of him! By Victor Hugo Greeks Parisian French Athenian Idle

You asked me why I saved you. You have forgotten a villain who tried to carry you off one night,- a villain to whom the very next day you brought relief upon their infamous pillory. A drop of water and a little pity are more than my whole life can ever repay. You have forgotten that villain; but he remembers."~Quasimodo to Esmeralda~ By Victor Hugo Villain Asked Saved Forgotten Quasimodo

Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake. By Victor Hugo Task Peace Courage Great Sorrows

Did I exist before my birth? No. Shall I exist after death? No. What am I? A little dust collected in an organism. What am I to do on this earth? The choice rests with me: suffer or enjoy. Whither will suffering lead me? To nothingness; but I shall have suffered. Whither will enjoyment lead me? To nothingness; but I shall have enjoyed myself. My choice is made. One must eat or be eaten. I shall eat. It is better to be the tooth than the grass. Such is my wisdom. After which, go whither I push thee, the grave-digger is there; the Pantheon for some of us: all falls into the great hole. End. Finis. Total liquidation. This is the vanishing-point. Death is death, believe me. I laugh at the idea of there being any one who has anything to tell me on that subject. Fables of nurses; bugaboo for children; Jehovah for men. No; our to-morrow is the night. Beyond the tomb there is nothing but equal nothingness. By Victor Hugo Exist Nothingness Birth Death Lead

A saint addicted to excessive self-abnegation is a dangerous associate; he may infect you with poverty, and a stiffening of those joints which are needed for advancement-in a word, with more renunciation than you care for-and so you flee the contagion. By Victor Hugo Associate Poverty Word Contagion Saint

Any one who had listened to Courfeyrac in 1828 would have thought he heard Tholomyes in 1817. Only, Courfeyrac was an honourable fellow. Beneath the apparent similarities of the exterior mind, the difference between him and Tholomyes was very great. The latent man which existed in the two was totally different in the first from what it was in the second. There was in Tholomyes a district attorney, and in Courfeyrac a paladin. By Victor Hugo Courfeyrac Tholomyes Listened Thought Heard

We all lead double lives. It's a privilege for the artist and a curse for the ordinary man. One has to get used to it.""It's a terrible thing to know too much. In life, our words are improvisations and our actions careless mistakes that end up by becoming habits. Fate beign the distraction of the gods, I distract myself by evading questions that I never asked myself in the past. We are in the hands of the improbable, are we not, my dear Cosette?"- Monsieur Verjat- By Victor Hugo Lives Lead Double Man Cosette

The saints were his friends, and blessed him; the monsters were his friends, and guarded him. By Victor Hugo Friends Saints Blessed Monsters Guarded

To be ultra is to go beyond. It is to attack the sceptre in the name of the throne, and the mitre in the name of the attar; it is to ill-treat the thing which one is dragging, it is to kick over the traces; it is to cavil at the fagot on the score of the amount of cooking received by heretics; it is to reproach the idol with its small amount of idolatry; it is to insult through excess of respect; it is to discover that the Pope is not sufficiently papish, that the King is not sufficiently royal, and that the night has too much light; it is to be discontented with alabaster, with snow, with the swan and the lily in the name of whiteness; it is to be a partisan of things to the point of becoming their enemy; it is to be so strongly for, as to be against. By Victor Hugo Ultra Amount Sufficiently Pope King

What was more needed by this old man who divided the leisure hours of his life, where he had so little leisure, between gardening in the daytime, and contemplation at night? Was not this narrow enclosure, with the sky for a background, enough to enable him to adore God in his most beautiful as well as in his most sublime works? Indeed, is not that all, and what more can be desired? A little garden to walk, and immensity to reflect upon. At his feet something to cultivate and gather; above his head something to study and meditate upon: a few flowers on the earth, and all the stars in the sky. By Victor Hugo Leisure Life Daytime Night Needed

What precipices are sloth and pleasure! To do nothing is a sorry resolve to take; are you aware of that? To live in indolence on the goods of others, to be useless, that is to say, injurious! This leads straight to the depths of misery. Woe to the man who would be a parasite! He will become vermin! Ah, it does not please you to work! Ah, you have but one thoughtto drink well, to eat well, and sleep well. You will drink water; you will eat black bread; you will sleep on a plank, with fetters riveted to your limbs, and you will feel their cold touch at night on your flesh! By Victor Hugo Pleasure Precipices Sloth Drink Eat

Ordinarily it ends in that ocean: revolution. Sometimes, however, coming from those lofty mountains which dominate the moral horizon, justice, wisdom, reason, right, formed of the pure snow of the ideal, after a long fall from rock to rock, after having reflected the sky in its transparency and increased by a hundred affluents in the majestic mien of triumph, insurrection is suddenly lost in some quagmire, as the Rhine is in a swamp. By Victor Hugo Revolution Ordinarily Ocean Ends Rock

While in any other great city the vagabond child is a lost man, while nearly everywhere the child left to itself is, in some sort, sacrificed and abandoned to a kind of fatal immersion in the public vices which devour in him honesty and conscience, the street boy of Paris, we insist on this point, however defaced and injured on the surface, is almost intact on the interior. It is a magnificent thing to put on record, and one which shines forth in the splendid probity of our popular revolutions, that a certain incorruptibility results from the idea which exists in the air of Paris, as salt exists in the water of the ocean. By Victor Hugo Paris Child Man Sort Sacrificed

Many men have a secret monster this way, a disease that they feed, a dragon that gnaws them, a despair that inhabits their night. Such a man seems like others, quite normal. Nobody knows that he has within him a fearful parasitic pain, with a thousand teeth, which lives in the miserable man, who is dying of it. Nobody knows that this man is a gulf. It is stagnant, but deep. From time to time a turmoil, of which we understand nothing, shows up on its surface. A mysterious wrinkle comes along, then vanishes, then reappears; an air bubble rises and bursts. It is a little thing, it is terrible. It is the breathing of the unknown monster. By Victor Hugo Man Feed Night Men Secret

Many men have a secret monster in this same manner, a dragon which gnaws them, a despair which inhabits their night. Such a man resembles other men, he goes and comes. No one knows that he bears within him a frightful parasitic pain with a thousand teeth, which lives within the unhappy man, and of which he is dying. No one knows that this man is a gulf. He is stagnant but deep. From time to time, a trouble of which the onlooker understands nothing appears on his surface. A mysterious wrinkle is formed, then vanishes, then re-appears; an air-bubble rises and bursts. It is the breathing of the unknown beast. By Victor Hugo Men Man Manner Night Secret

He thought her more beautiful than ever, with a beauty that was at once feminine and angelic, that wholeness of beauty that had moved Petrarch to song and brought Dante to his knees. By Victor Hugo Beauty Petrarch Dante Angelic Knees

The mother ... swinging the children by pulling on a length of string, while at the same time she kept and eye on them with that protective watchfulness, half animal, half angelic, which is the quality of motherhood. By Victor Hugo Mother Half Swinging String Watchfulness

The poor man shuddered, overflowed with an angelic joy; he declared in his transport that this would last through life; he said to himself that he really had not suffered enough to deserve such radiant happiness, and he thanked God, in the depths of his soul, for having permitted that he, a miserable man, should be so loved by this innocent being. By Victor Hugo God Man Shuddered Overflowed Joy

These two beings, who had loved each other so exclusively, and with so touching a love, and who had lived so long for each other, were now suffering beside one another and through one another; without speaking of it, without harsh feeling, and smiling all the while. By Victor Hugo Exclusively Love Feeling Loved Touching

Laughter is like sunshine; it chases winter away from the human face. Cosette By Victor Hugo Cosette Laughter Sunshine Face Chases

Not ill? No truly, I am young, healthful, and strong; the blood flows freely in my veins; my limbs obey my will; I am robust in mind and body, constituted for a long life. Yes, all this is true; and yet, nevertheless, I have an illness, a fatal illness,an illness given by the hand of man! By Victor Hugo Ill Healthful Illness Young Strong

Friendship exists outside our modern economy of scarcity ... It's not about apportioning vanishing resources of time and energy. Friendship is a blessed relic of the ancient economy of the gift, and the time freely given to people dear to you actually creates magical abundance. By Victor Hugo Scarcity Friendship Economy Exists Modern

Melancholy is the pleasure of being sad. By Victor Hugo Melancholy Sad Pleasure

Melancholy is the happiness of being sad. By Victor Hugo Melancholy Sad Happiness

True thinkers are characterized by a blending of clearness and mystery. By Victor Hugo True Mystery Thinkers Characterized Blending

It's the accursed inventions of the age that are ruining everything - the artillery, the muskets, the cannons, and above all the printing press, that scourge brought from Germany. No more manuscripts, no more books. Printing is ruining bookselling. The end of the world is upon us. By Victor Hugo Germany Artillery Muskets Cannons Press

Winter always carries with it something of our sadness; then April came, that daybreak of summer, fresh like every dawn, gay like every childhood; weeping a little sometimes like the infant that it is. Nature in this month has charming gleams which pass from the sky, the clouds, the trees, the fields, and the flowers, into the heart of man. By Victor Hugo April Winter Sadness Summer Fresh

But what was tragic about the girl was that she had not been born ugly. She might even have been a pretty child, and the grace proper to her age was still at odds with the repulsive premature aging induced by loose living and poverty. A trace of beauty still lingered in the sixteen-year-old face, like pale sunlight fading beneath the massed clouds of a winter's dawn. By Victor Hugo Ugly Tragic Girl Born Child

The first symptom of true love in a man is timidity, in a young woman, boldness. This is surprising, and yet nothing is more simple. It is the two sexes tending to approach each other and assuming each the other's qualities. By Victor Hugo Boldness Timidity Woman Symptom True

There are men who work hard, digging for gold: he worked hard, digging for pity. The misery of the world was his mine. Pain everywhere was an occasion for goodness always. By Victor Hugo Digging Hard Gold Pity Men

It behooved wise people to play the part of their own police, and to guard themselves well, and care must be taken to duly close, bar and barricade their houses, and to fasten the doors well. By Victor Hugo Police Close Bar Houses Behooved

There are moments when a rope's end, a pole, the branch of the tree, is life itself, and it is a frightful thing to see a living being lose his hold upon it, and fall like a ripe fruit. By Victor Hugo End Pole Tree Fruit Moments

For, to make deserts, God, who rules mankind, Begins with kings, and ends the work by wind. By Victor Hugo God Begins Deserts Mankind Kings

I was confided to your loyalty and accepted by your treason; you offer my death to those to whom you had promised my life. Do you know who it is you are destroying here? It is yourself. By Victor Hugo Treason Life Confided Loyalty Accepted

Owing money was the beginning of slavery ... a creditor was worse than a boss, for a boss only owns your person but a creditor owns your dignity and can slap it around. By Victor Hugo Owing Slavery Money Beginning Creditor

The peculiarity of prudery is to place all the more sentinels in proportion as the fortress is the less menaced. By Victor Hugo Menaced Peculiarity Prudery Place Sentinels

Teach the ignorant as much as you can; society is culpable in not providing a free education for all and it must answer for the night which it produces. If the soul is left in darkness sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but he who causes the darkness. By Victor Hugo Teach Society Produces Ignorant Culpable

Sometimes, if the two old womenwere not asleep, they heard him pacing slowly along the walks at a veryadvanced hour of the night. He was there alone, communing with himself,peaceful, adoring, comparing the serenity of his heart with theserenity of the ether, moved amid the darkness by the visible splendor ofthe constellations and the invisible splendor of God, opening his heart tothe thoughts which fall from the Unknown. At such moments, while heoffered his heart at the hour when nocturnal flowers offer their perfume,illuminated like a lamp amid the starry night, as he poured himself outin ecstasy in the midst of the universal radiance of creation, he could nothave told himself, probably, what was passing in his spirit; he feltsomething take its flight from him, and something descend into him.Mysterious exchange of the abysses of the soul with the abysses of theuniverse! By Victor Hugo Heart Night Asleep Hour Womenwere

He was there alone with himself, collected, tranquil, adoring, comparing the serenity of his heart with the serenity of the skies, moved in the darkness by the visible splendors of the constellations, and the invisible splendor of God, opening his soul to the thoughts which fall from the Unknown. In such moments, offering up his heart at the hour when the flowers of night inhale their perfume, lighted like a lamp in the center of the starry night, expanding his soul in ecstasy in the midst of the universal radiance of creation, he could not himself perhaps have told what was passing in his own mind; he felt something depart from him, and something descend upon him, mysterious interchanges of the depths of the soul with the depths of the universe. By Victor Hugo Serenity Soul God Unknown Heart

He was out there alone with himself, composed, tranquil, adoring, comparing the serenity of his heart to the serenity of the skies, moved in the darkness by the visible splendors of the constellations and the invisible splendor of God, opening his soul to the thoughts that fall from the Unknown. In such moments, offering up his heart as the flowers of night emit their perfume, lit like a lamp in the center of the starry night, expanding in ecstasy the midst of creation's universal radiance, perhaps he could not have told what was happening in his own mind; he felt something floating away from him, and something descending upon him, mysterious exchanges of the soul with the universe. By Victor Hugo Serenity God Unknown Heart Soul

Love is a fault; so be it. By Victor Hugo Love Fault

Marius saw in Bonaparte the dazzling spectre which will always rise upon the frontier, and which will guard the future. Despot but dictator; a despot resulting from a republic and summing up a revolution. Napoleon became for him the man-people as Jesus Christ is the man-God. By Victor Hugo Bonaparte Marius Frontier Future Dazzling

His ideas assumed a kind of stupefied and mechanical quality which is peculiar to despair. By Victor Hugo Despair Ideas Assumed Kind Stupefied

God can add nothing to the happiness of those who love, except to give them endless duration. After a life of love, an eternity of love is, in fact, an augmentation; but to increase in intensity even the ineffable felicity which love bestows on the soul even in this world, is impossible, even to God. God is the plenitude of heaven; love is the plenitude of man. By Victor Hugo Love God Duration Add Happiness

The Ocean's SongWe walked amongst the ruins famed in storyOf Rozel-Tower,And saw the boundless waters stretch in gloryAnd heave in power.O Ocean vast! We heard thy song with wonder,Whilst waves marked time."Appear, O Truth!" thou sang'st with tone of thunder,"And shine sublime!"The world's enslaved and hunted down by beagles,To despots sold.Souls of deep thinkers, soar like mighty eagles!The Right uphold."Be born! arise! o'er the earth and wild waves bounding,Peoples and suns!Let darkness vanish; tocsins be resounding,And flash, ye guns!"And you who love no pomps of fog or glamour,Who fear no shocks,Brave foam and lightning, hurricane and clamour,--Exiles: the rocks! By Victor Hugo Ocean Storyof Vast Songwe Walked

Gavroche had fallen only to rise again; he sat up, a long stream of blood rolled down his face, he raised both arms in air, looked in the direction whence the shot came, and began to sing. By Victor Hugo Gavroche Face Air Looked Sing

Love one another dearly, always. Nothing else in the world really matters but that: to love one another. By Victor Hugo Dearly Love World Matters

The book which the reader has under his eye at this moment is, from one end to the other, as a whole and in detail, whatever may be its intermittences, exceptions and faults, the march from evil to good, from the unjust to the just, from night to day, from appetite to conscience, from rottenness to life, from hell to heaven, from nothingness to God. Point of departure: matter; point of arrival: the soul. The hydra at the beginning, the angel at the end. By Victor Hugo God Point Detail Intermittences Exceptions

Go to sleep in peace. God is awake. By Victor Hugo Peace Sleep God Awake

Love is a fault; be it so. Fantine was innocence floating upon the surface of this fault. By Victor Hugo Fault Love Fantine Innocence Floating

Dark Error's other hidden side is truth. By Victor Hugo Error Dark Truth Hidden Side

The infinite has being. It is there. If infinity had no self then self would not be. But it is. Therefore it has a self. The self of infinity is God. By Victor Hugo Infinite God

That light called history is pitiless; it possesses this peculiar and divine quality, that, pure light as it is, and precisely because it is wholly light, it often casts a shadow in places where people had hitherto beheld rays; from the same man it constructs two different phantoms, and the one attacks the other and executes justice on it, and the shadows of the despot contend with the brilliancy of the leader. By Victor Hugo Light Pitiless Quality Pure Rays

Fate, with its mysterious and inexorable patience, was slowly bringing together these two beings charged, like thunder-clouds, with electricity, with the latent forces of passion, and destined to meet and mingle in a look as clouds do in a lightning-flash. So much has been made in love-stories of the power of a glance that we have ended by undervaluing it. We scarcely dare say in these days that two persons fell in love because their eyes met. Yet that is how one falls in love and in no other way. What remains is simply what remains, and it comes later. Nothing is more real than the shock two beings sustain when that spark flies between them. By Victor Hugo Fate Patience Charged Thunderclouds Electricity

Man's greatest actions are performed in minor struggles. Life, misfortune, isolation, abandonment and poverty are battlefields which have their heroes - obscure heroes who are at times greater than illustrious heroes. By Victor Hugo Man Struggles Heroes Greatest Actions

God was as visible in this affair as was Jean Valjean. God has his instruments. He makes use of the tool which he wills. He is not responsible to men. By Victor Hugo Valjean Jean God Visible Affair

In this way, his unhappy soul struggled with its anguish. Eighteen hundred years before this unfortunate man, the mysterious Being, in whom all the sanctities and all the sufferings of humanity come together, He too, while the olive trees trembled in the fierce breath of the Infinite, had brushed away the fearful cup that appeared before him, streaming with shadow and running over with darkness, in the star-filled depths. (pg. 236) By Victor Hugo Anguish Unhappy Soul Struggled Infinite

Who can be sure that Jean Valjean had not been on the verge of losing heart and giving up the struggle? In loving he recovered his strength. But the truth is that he was no less vulnerable than Cosette. He protected her and she sustained him. Thanks to him she could go forward into life, and thanks to her he could continue virtous. He was the child's support and she his mainstay. Sublime, unfathomable marvel of the balance of destiny! By Victor Hugo Jean Valjean Struggle Verge Losing

Success is a very hideous thing. Its false resemblance to merit deceives men. By Victor Hugo Success Thing Hideous Men False

I dedicate this book to the rock of hospitality and liberty, to that portion of old Norman ground inhabited by the noble nation of the sea, to the island of Guernsey, severe yet kind, my present asylum, my probable tomb. By Victor Hugo Guernsey Norman Liberty Sea Severe

To blame or praise men on account of the result, is almost like praising or blaming figures on account of the sum total. Whatever is to happen, happens; whatever is to blow, blows. The eternal serenity does not suffer from these north winds. Above Revolutions, Truth and Justice reign, as the starry heavens above the tempest. By Victor Hugo Account Result Total Blame Praise

and the goodman beheld this apparition, which had bare feet and a tattered petticoat, running about among the flower-beds distributing life around her. The sound of the watering-pot on the leaves filled Father Mabeuf's soul with ecstasy. It seemed to him that the rhododendron was happy now. By Victor Hugo Apparition Petticoat Running Goodman Beheld

He sleeps although so much he was denied. He lived and when his dear love left him died. It happened of itself, in the easy way that in the morning night time follows day By Victor Hugo Denied Sleeps Died Day Lived

There are souls which, crab-like, crawl continually toward darkness, going back in life rather than advancing in it, using what experience they have to increase their deformity, growing worse without ceasing, and becoming steeped more and more thoroughly in an intensifying wickedness. By Victor Hugo Crablike Crawl Darkness Deformity Growing

He found that man needs affection, that life without a warming love is but a dry wheel, creaking and grating as it turns. By Victor Hugo Affection Wheel Creaking Turns Found

God has set his intentions in the flowers, in the dawn, in the spring, it is his will that we should love. By Victor Hugo God Flowers Dawn Spring Love

The truth of an upright man must be accepted on his own terms. Moreover, since natures vary, we must agree that all the beauties of human excellence may be fostered by faiths that we do not share. By Victor Hugo Terms Truth Upright Man Accepted

With a tiny bit of effort, the nettle would be useful; if you neglect it, it becomes a pest. So then we kill it. How many men are like nettles ... My friends, there is no such thing as a weed and no such thing as a bad man. There are only bad cultivators. By Victor Hugo Effort Pest Tiny Bit Neglect

A miscreant with coiffed, scented hair, a slender waist, the hips of a woman and the chest of a Prussian officer, with a finely tied cravat, by all girls admired. ~ [introduction of character Montparnasse] By Victor Hugo Prussian Coiffed Scented Hair Waist

There is, we are aware, a philosophy that denies the infinite. There is also a philosophy, classified as pathologic, that denies the sun; this philosophy is called blindness. To set up a theory that lacks a source of truth is an excellent example of blind assurance. And the odd part of it is the haughty air of superiority and compassion assumed toward the philosophy that sees God, by this philosophy that has to grope its way. It makes one think of a mole exclaiming, "How I pity them with their sun!" There are, we know, illustrious and powerful atheists; with them, the matter is nothing but a question of definitions, and at all events, even if they do not believe in God, they prove God, because they are great minds. We hail, in them, the philosophers, while, at the same time, inexorably disputing their philosophy. By Victor Hugo Philosophy God Denies Aware Infinite

Pretty, but badly dressed," breath of an oracle which had passed by her and vanished after depositing in her heart one of the two germs which must afterwards fill the whole life of the woman, coquetry. Love is the other. By Victor Hugo Pretty Coquetry Dressed Breath Woman

The true diversity of humanity is this: the luminous and the dark.To diminish the number of dark, to increase the number of luminous, that is the aim. That is why we cry: education, knowledge! To learn to read is to kindle a fire; every syllable spelled sparkles. But whoever says light does not necessarily say joy. There is suffering in the light; an excess burns. Flame is hostile to the wing. To burn and yet to fly, this is the miracle of genius.When you know and when you love you will suffer. The day dawns in tears. The luminous weep, be it only for the dark ones. By Victor Hugo Number Luminous Aim True Diversity

My coat and I live comfortably togther. It has assumed all my wrinkles, does not hurt me anywhere, has moulded itself on my deformities, and is complacent to all my movements, and I only feel its presence because it keeps me warm. Old coats and old friends are the same thing. By Victor Hugo Togther Live Comfortably Coat Coats

An army is a strange masterpiece of combination where force results from an enormous sum of impotence. Thus is war, made by humanity against humanity, despite humanity, explained. By Victor Hugo Impotence Humanity Army Strange Masterpiece

Napoleon was accustomed to gaze steadily at war; he never added up the heart-rending details, cipher by cipher; ciphers mattered little to him, provided that they furnished the total, victory; he was not alarmed if the beginnings did go astray, since he thought himself the master and the possessor at the end; he knew how to wait, supposing himself to be out of the question, and he treated destiny as his equal: he seemed to say to fate, Thou wilt not dare. By Victor Hugo Thou Cipher Victory Napoleon War

He endeavored to collect his thoughts, but did not succeed. At those hours especially when we have sorest need of grasping the sharp realities of life do the threads of though snap off in the brain. By Victor Hugo Thoughts Succeed Endeavored Collect Brain

She could become a child again, run and frolic, leave her hat on Valjean's knees and fill it with bunches of wild flowers. She could watch the butterflies, although she never tried to catch them; tenderness and compassion are a part of loving, and a girl cherishing something equally fragile in her heart is mindful of the wings of butterflies. By Victor Hugo Valjean Run Frolic Leave Flowers

There is a spectacle greater than the sea, and that is the sky; there is a spectacle greater than the sky, and that is the human soul. By Victor Hugo Sky Spectacle Greater Sea Soul

Catastrophes have a somber way of arranging things. By Victor Hugo Catastrophes Things Somber Arranging

In the vast cosmical changes, the universal life comes and goes in unknown quantities ... sowing an animalcule here, crumbling a star there, oscillating and winding, ... entangling, from the highest to the lowest, all activities in the obscurity of a dizzying mechanism, hanging the flight of an insect upon the movement of the earth ... Enormous gearing, whose first motor is the gnat, and whose last wheel is the zodiac. By Victor Hugo Quantities Vast Cosmical Universal Life

Who can calculate the trajectory of a molecule? How do we know the creation of worlds is not determined by the falling of grains of sand? Who, after all, knows the reciprocal ebb and flow of the infinitely big and the infinitely small, the reverberation of causes in the chasms of a being, the avalanches of creation? A By Victor Hugo Molecule Calculate Trajectory Creation Infinitely

Who then understands the reciprocal flux and reflux of the infinitely great and the infinitely small, the echoing of causes in the abysses of being, and the avalanches of creation? By Victor Hugo Infinitely Small Creation Understands Reciprocal

Intellectual and moral growth is no less indispensable than material improvement. Knowledge is a viaticum. Though is a prime necessity; truth is nourishment, like wheat. A reasoning faculty, deprived of knowledge and wisdom, pines away. We should feel the same pity for minds that do not eat as for stomachs. If there be anything sadder than a body perishing for want of bread, it is a mind dying of hunger for lack of light. All progress tends toward the solution. Some day, people will be amazed. As the human race ascends, the deepest layers will naturally emerge from the zone of distress. The effacement of wretchedness will be effected by a simple elevation level. By Victor Hugo Intellectual Improvement Moral Growth Indispensable

What a pity!" said Combeferre. "What hideous things these butcheries are! Come, when there are no more kings, there will be no more war. Enjolras, you are taking aim at that sergeant, you are not looking at him. Fancy, he is a charming young man; he is intrepid; it is evident that he is thoughtful; those young artillery-men are very well educated; he has a father, a mother, a family; he is probably in love; he is not more than five and twent at the most; he might be your brother." "He is," said Enjolras. "Yes," replied Combeferre, "he is mine too. Well, let us not kill him." "Let me alone, it must be done." And a tear trickled slowly down Enjolras' marble cheek. By Victor Hugo Combeferre Pity Enjolras Young Hideous

A doll is among the most pressing needs as well as the most charming instincts of feminine childhood. To care for it, adorn it, dress and undress it, give it lessons, scold it a little, put it to bed and sing it to sleep, pretend that the object is a living person - all the future of the woman resides in this. Dreaming and murmuring, tending, cossetting, sewing small garments, the child grows into girlhood, from girlhood into womanhood, from womanhood into wifehood, and the first baby is the successor of the last doll. A little girl without a doll is nearly as deprived and quite as unnatural as a woman without a child. By Victor Hugo Doll Childhood Pressing Charming Instincts

What's our baggage? Only vows,Happiness, and all our care,And the flower that sweetly showsNestling lightly in your hair. By Victor Hugo Baggage Vowshappiness Hair Careand Flower

The little people must be sacred to the big ones, and it is from the rights of the weak that the duty of the strong is comprised. By Victor Hugo Comprised People Sacred Big Weak

It seems as though, at the approach of a certain dark hour, the light of heaven infills those who are leaving the light of earth. By Victor Hugo Light Hour Earth Approach Dark

In the future no one will kill anyone, the earth will shine, the human race will love. It will come, citizens, the day when all will be peace, harmony, light, joy, and life, it will come. And it is so that it comes that we are going to die. By Victor Hugo Shine Love Future Kill Earth

Certainly we talk to ourselves; there is no thinking being who has not experienced that. One could even say that the word is never a more magnificent mystery than when, within a man, it travels from his thought to his conscience and returns from his conscience to his thought. This is the only sense of the words, so often used in this chapter, "he said," "he exclaimed"; we say to ourselves, we speak to ourselves, we exclaim within ourselves, without breaking the external silence. There is great tumult within; everything within us speaks, except the tongue. The realities of the soul, though not visible and palpable, are nonetheless realities. (pg. 226) By Victor Hugo Thought Conscience Talk Thinking Experienced

To crush out fanaticism and revere the infinite, such is the law. Let us not confine ourselves to falling prostrate beneath the tree of creation and contemplating its vast ramifications full of stars. We have a duty to perform, to cultivate the human soul, to defend mystery against miracle, to adore the incomprehensible and to reject the absurd; to admit nothing that is inexplicable excepting what is necessary, to purify faith and obliterate superstition from the face of religion, to remove the vermin from the garden of God. By Victor Hugo Infinite Law Crush Fanaticism Revere

He said to himself that he really had not suffered enough to deserve such radiant happiness, and he thanked God, in the depths of his soul, for having permitted that he, a miserable man, should be so loved by this innocent being.Jean Valjean about Cossette By Victor Hugo God Cossette Valjean Happiness Soul

As for the author, he is profoundly unaware of what the classical or romantic genre might consist of ... In literature, as in allthings, there is only the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly, the true and the false. By Victor Hugo Author Profoundly Unaware Classical Romantic

Happiness lies for those who cry, those who hurt, those who have searched, and those who have tried for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives. By Victor Hugo Happiness Cry Hurt Searched Lives

Jean Valjean had undertaken to teach her to read. Sometimes, as he made the child spell, he remembered that it was with the idea of doing evil that he had learned to read in prison. This idea had ended in teaching a child to read. Then the ex-convict smiled with the pensive smile of the angels. He felt in it a premeditation from on high, the will of some one who was not man, and he became absorbed in revery. Good thoughts have their abysses as well as evil ones. By Victor Hugo Valjean Read Jean Undertaken Teach

They were moments when she was suddenly reminded of her child, and perhaps also of the man she had loved; the breaking of links with the past is a painful thing. By Victor Hugo Child Loved Thing Moments Suddenly

What Is Love? I have met in the streets a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat worn, the water passed through his shoes and the stars through his soul By Victor Hugo Love Met Streets Poor Young

All that was neither a city, nor a church, nor a river, nor color, nor light, nor shadow: it was reverie. For a long time, I remained motionless, letting myself be penetrated gently by this unspeakable ensemble, by the serenity of the sky and the melancholy of the moment. I do not know what was going on in my mind, and I could not express it; it was one of those ineffable moments when one feels something in himself which is going to sleep and something which is awakening. By Victor Hugo City Church River Color Light

Certain forms are torn down, and it is well that they should be, but on condition that they are followed by reconstruction. By Victor Hugo Reconstruction Forms Torn Condition

The next day, the day after, every day, he had to begin again. M. Mabeuf went out with a book and came back with a little money. As the secondhand bookstall keepers saw that he was forced to sell, they bought from him for twenty sous what he had paid twenty francs for. Sometimes to the same booksellers. Volume by volume, the whole library disappeared. At times he would say, "But I am eighty years old," as if he had some lingering hope of reaching the end of his days before reaching the end of his books. By Victor Hugo Day Begin Mabeuf Twenty End

Let's not bring flame where light is enough. By Victor Hugo Bring Flame Light

The joy which we inspire has this charming property, that, far from growing meagre, like all reflections, it returns to us more radiant than ever. At recreation hours, Jean Valjean watched her running and playing in the distance, and he distinguished her laugh from that of the rest. For Cosette laughed now. By Victor Hugo Property Meagre Reflections Joy Inspire

How was Jean Valjean going to conduct himself in the face of Cosette and Marius's happiness? A happiness he himself had wanted, that he himself had made; he was the one who had stabbed himself in the guts with it, and, at this moment, looking back on it, he could feel the sort of satisfaction an armorer would have felt, recognizing his trademark on a blade as he yanked it, all fuming, out of his chest. By Victor Hugo Jean Valjean Cosette Marius Happiness

Jean Valjean watched these ravages with anxiety. He who felt that he could never do anything but crawl, walk at the most, beheld wings sprouting on Cosette. By Victor Hugo Valjean Jean Anxiety Cosette Watched

This is a leviathan I am about to ship out to sea ... By Victor Hugo Sea Leviathan Ship

What would be ugly in a garden constitutes beauty in a mountain. By Victor Hugo Mountain Ugly Garden Constitutes Beauty

Nothing is more true, more real, than the primeval magnetic disturbances that two souls may communicate to one another, through the tiny sparks of a moment's glance. By Victor Hugo True Real Glance Primeval Magnetic

We live in a sad society. Succeed--that is the advice which falls drop by drop from the overhanging corruption. In passing, we might say that success is a hideous thing. Its false similarity to merit deceives men. By Victor Hugo Society Succeed Live Sad Drop

The peculiarity of prudery is to station the more sentries the less the fortress is menaced. By Victor Hugo Menaced Peculiarity Prudery Station Sentries

With a remainder of that brotherly compassion which is never totally absent from the heart of a drinker, Phoebus rolled Jehan with his foot onto one of those poor man's pillows which Providence provides on all the street corners of Paris and which the rich disdainfully refer to as heaps of garbage. By Victor Hugo Phoebus Jehan Providence Paris Drinker

Love resembles a tree: it bends under its own weight, deeply rooted in our being and sometimes turns green in the ruins of a heart. By Victor Hugo Love Tree Weight Deeply Heart

According to an eastern fable, the rose was white when God created it, but when, as it unfolded, it felt Adam's eyes upon it, it blushed in modesty and turned pink. By Victor Hugo God Adam Fable Unfolded Pink

Art moves. Hence its civilizing power. By Victor Hugo Art Moves Power Civilizing

Equality, citizens, is not the whole of society on a level, a society of tall blades of grass and small oaks, or a number of entangled jealousies. It is, legally speaking, every aptitude having the same opportunity for a career; politically all consciences having the same right. Equality has an organ, gratuitous and compulsory education. We must begin with the right to the alphabet. By Victor Hugo Society Citizens Level Oaks Jealousies

Never had the sky been more studded with stars and more charming, the trees more trembling, the odor of the grass more penetrating; never had the birds fallen asleep among the leaves with a sweeter noise; never had all the harmonies of universal serenity responded more thoroughly to the inward music of love; never had Marius been more captivated, more happy, more ecstatic. By Victor Hugo Marius Charming Trembling Penetrating Noise

If they had had a different neighbour, one less self-absorbed and more concerned for others, a man of normal, charitable instincts, their desperate state would not have gone unnoticed, their distress-signals would have been heard, and perhaps they would have been rescued by now. Certainly they appeared utterly depraved, corrupt, vile and odious; but it is rare for those who have sunk so low not to be degraded in the process, and there comes a point, moreover, where the unfortunate and the infamous are grouped together, merged in a single fateful word. They are les miserables - the outcasts, the underdogs. And who is to blame? Is it not the most fallen who have most need of charity? By Victor Hugo Neighbour Normal Charitable Instincts Unnoticed

A flower should smell sweet, and a woman should have wit. By Victor Hugo Sweet Wit Flower Smell Woman

Revolutionists are accused of sowing fear abroad. Every barricade seems a crime. Their theories are incriminated, their aim suspected, their ulterior motive is feared, their conscience denounced. They are reproached with raising, erecting, and heaping up, against the reigning social state, a mass of miseries, of griefs, of iniquities, of wrongs, of despairs, and of tearing from the lowest depths blocks of shadow in order therein to embattle themselves and to combat. People shout to them: "You are tearing up the pavements of hell!" They might reply: "That is because our barricade is made of good intentions. By Victor Hugo Revolutionists Abroad Accused Sowing Fear

When grace combines with wrinkles, it is admirable. There is an indescribable light of dawn about intensely happy old age ... The young person is handsome, but the old, superb. By Victor Hugo Wrinkles Admirable Grace Combines Superb

So you're giving up? That's it? Okay, okay. We'll leave you alone, Quasimodo. We just thought, maybe you're made up of something much stronger. By Victor Hugo Giving Quasimodo Thought Stronger Leave

I am he who cometh out of the depths. My lords, you are great and rich. There lies your danger. You profit by the night; but beware! The dawn is all-powerful. You cannot prevail over it. It is coming. Nay! it is come. Within it is the day-spring of irresistible light. And who shall hinder that sling from hurling the sun into the sky. The sun I speak of is Right. You are Privilege. Tremble! By Victor Hugo Depths Cometh Sun Lords Rich

There is no one for spying on people's actions like those who are not concerned in them ... They will follow up such and such a man or woman for whole days; they will do sentry duty for hours at a time on the corners of the streets, under alley-way doors at night, in cold and rain; they will bribe errand-porters, they will make the drivers of hackney-coaches and lackeys tipsy, buy a waiting-maid, suborn a porter. Why? For no reason. A pure passion for seeing, knowing, and penetrating into things. A pure itch for talking. And often these secrets once known, these mysteries made public, these enigmas illuminated by the light of day, bring on catastrophies, duels, failures, the ruin of families, and broken lives, to the great joy of those who have "found out everything," without any interest in the matter, and by pure instinct. A sad thing. By Victor Hugo Pure Spying People Actions Concerned

Sin as little as possible - that is the law of mankind. Not to sin at all is the dream of the angel. All earthly tings are subject to sin. Sin is like gravity. By Victor Hugo Sin Mankind Law Angel Dream

The soul that loves and suffers is in the sublime state. By Victor Hugo State Soul Loves Suffers Sublime

I have an old hat which is not worth three francs, I have a coat which lacks buttons in front, my shirt is all ragged, my elbows are torn, my boots let in the water; for the last six weeks I have not thought about it, and I have not told you about it. You only see me at night, and you give me your love; if you were to see me in the daytime, you would give me a sou! By Victor Hugo Francs Front Ragged Torn Water

Superstition, bigotry and prejudice, ghosts though they are, cling tenaciously to life; they are shades armed with tooth and claw. They must be grappled with unceasingly, for it is a fateful part of human destiny that it is condemned to wage perpetual war against ghosts. A shade is not easily taken by the throat and destroyed. By Victor Hugo Superstition Bigotry Prejudice Cling Life

Can human nature ever be wholly and radically transformed? Can the man whom God made good be made wicked by man? Can the soul be reshaped in its entirety by destiny and made evil because destiny is evil? Can the heart become misshapen and afflicted with ugly, incurable deformities under disproportionate misfortune, like a spinal column bent beneath a too low roof? By Victor Hugo Transformed Made Human Nature Wholly

After he had fully determined that the young man was at the bottom of this state of affairs, and that it all came from him, he Jean Valjean, the regenerated man, the man who had laboured so much upon his soul, the man who had made so many efforts to resolve all life, all misery, and all misfortune into love; he looked within himself, and there he saw a spectre, Hatred. By Victor Hugo Man Hatred Valjean Jean Affairs

The reduction of the universe to one single being, the expansion of one single being into God: That is what love is. By Victor Hugo Single God Reduction Universe Expansion

They fathomed principle; they attached themselves to right. They longed for the absolute, they caught glimpses of the infinite realisations; the absolute, by its very rigidity, pushes the mind towards the boundless, makes it float in the illimitable. There is nothing like dream to create the future. Utopia today, flesh and blood tomorrow. By Victor Hugo Absolute Principle Fathomed Attached Realisations

Madame Victurnien sometimes saw her passing, from her window, noticed the distress of "that creature" who, "thanks to her," had been "put back in her proper place," and congratulated herself. The happiness of the evil-minded is black. By Victor Hugo Victurnien Madame Passing Window Noticed

Would go somewhere, we would seek that spot on earth, where the sun is brightest, the sky the bluest, where the trees are most luxuriant. We would love each other, we would pour our two souls into each other, and we would have a thirst for ourselves which we would quench in common and incessantly at that fountain of inexhaustible love." She interrupted with a terrible and thrilling laugh. "Look, father, you have blood on your fingers! By Victor Hugo Earth Brightest Bluest Luxuriant Seek

His only theatre is the free show that god provides, the sky and the stars, flowers and children, mankind who's sufferings he shares and the created world in which he is trying his wings By Victor Hugo Stars Flowers Children Mankind Wings

Every good quality runs into a defect; economy borders on avarice, the generous are not far from the prodigal, the brave man is close to the bully; he who is very pious is slightly sanctimonious; there are just as many vices to virtue as there are holes in the mantle of Diogenes. By Victor Hugo Diogenes Defect Economy Avarice Prodigal

Nothing can be more depressing than to expose, naked to the light of thought, the hideous growth of argot. Indeed it is like a sort of repellent animal intended to dwell in darkness which has been dragged out of its cloaca. One seems to see a horned and living creature viciously struggling to be restored to the place where it belongs. One word is like a claw, another like a sightless and bleeding eye; and there are phrases which clutch like the pincers of a crab. And all of it is alive with the hideous vitality of things that have organized themselves amid disorganization. By Victor Hugo Expose Naked Thought Argot Depressing

The French Revolution, which is nothing more nor less than the ideal armed with the sword, rose abruptly, and by that very movement, closed the door of evil and opened the door of good.It released the question, promulgated truth, drove away miasma, purified the century, crowned the people.We can say it created man a second time, in giving him a second soul, his rights. Page 997 Saint-Denis chapter 7 Argot part III By Victor Hugo Door Revolution French Sword Rose

In front marched Egypt. The Duke of Egypt at their head, on horseback, with his counts on foot, holding his bridle and stirrups; behind them the Egyptians, men and women, in any order, with their young children yelling on their shoulders; all of them, duke, counts, common people, in rags and tinsel. Then came the kingdom of the argot, that is to say, every thief in France, graded in order of rank, the lowest going in front. Thus there filed past in column of four, in the various insignia of their grades in this strange academy, the majority crippled, some of them lame, others with only one arm, the upright men, the counterfeit cranks, the rufflers, the kinchincoves, the Abraham-men, the fraters, the dommerars, the trulls, the whipjacks, the prygges, the drawlatches, the robardesmen, the clapper-dogens; an enumeration to weary Homer. By Victor Hugo Egypt Duke Front Marched Counts

Argot is both a literary and a social phenomenon. What is argot, properly speaking? Argot is the language of misery. By Victor Hugo Argot Phenomenon Literary Social Properly

Argot is nothing more nor less than a wardrobe in which language, having some bad deed to do, disguises itself. It puts on word-masks and metaphoric rags. By Victor Hugo Argot Language Disguises Wardrobe Bad

My tastes are aristocratic, my actions democratic. By Victor Hugo Aristocratic Democratic Tastes Actions

As he spoke all tongues, he entered into all hearts. By Victor Hugo Tongues Hearts Spoke Entered

The judge speaks in the name of justice,' he said. 'The priest speaks in the name of pity, which is only a higher form of justice.' (Bishop Myriel) By Victor Hugo Justice Speaks Judge Bishop Myriel

In 1815, M. Charles-Francois-Bienvenu Myriel was Bishop of D - He was an old man of about seventy-five years of age; he had occupied the see of D - since 1806. By Victor Hugo Myriel Bishop Age Man Seventyfive

The cold and bitter scorn of the passers-by penetrated her very flesh and soul like a north wind. By Victor Hugo Wind Cold Bitter Scorn Passersby

Certain persons are malicious solely through a necessity for talking. Their conversation, the chat of the drawing-room, gossip of the anteroom, is like those chimneys which consume wood rapidly; they need a great amount of combustibles; and their combustibles are furnished by their neighbors. By Victor Hugo Talking Persons Malicious Solely Necessity

A certain amount of dreaming is good, like a narcotic in discreet doses. It lulls to sleep the fevers of the mind at labor, which are sometimes severe, and produces in the spirit a soft and fresh vapor which corrects the over-harsh contours of pure thought, fills in gaps here and there, binds together and rounds off the angles of the ideas. But By Victor Hugo Good Doses Amount Dreaming Narcotic

To travel is to be born and to die at every instant; perhaps, in the vaguest region of his mind, he did make comparisons between the shifting horizon and our human existence: all the things of life are perpetually fleeing before us; the dark and bright intervals are intermingled; after a dazzling moment, an eclipse; we look, we hasten, we stretch out our hands to grasp what is passing; each event is a turn in the road, and, all at once, we are old; we feel a shock; all is black; we distinguish an obscure door; the gloomy horse of life, which has been drawing us halts, and we see a veiled and unknown person unharnessing amid the shadows. By Victor Hugo Life Instant Mind Existence Intermingled

The duty of the inn-keeper,is to sell to the first comer, stews, repose, light, fire, dirtysheets, a servant, lice, and a smile; to stop passers-by, to empty smallpurses, and to honestly lighten heavy ones; to shelter travelling familiesrespectfully: to shave the man, to pluck the woman, to pick the childclean; to quote the window open, the window shut, the chimney-corner,the arm-chair, the chair, the ottoman, the stool, the feather-bed, the mattressand the truss of straw; to know how much the shadow uses up themirror, and to put a price on it; and, by five hundred thousand devils, tomake the traveller pay for everything, even for the flies which his dogeats! By Victor Hugo Window Stews Repose Light Fire

This barricade is made neither of paving stones, nor of timbers, nor of iron; it is made of two mounds, a mound of ideas and a mound of sorrows. Here misery encounters the ideal. Here the day embraces the night, and says: I will die with you and you will be born again with me. By Victor Hugo Mound Made Mounds Stones Timbers

When we reach out to pluck a flower the stem trembles, seeming both to shrink and to offer itself. The human body has something of this tremor at the moment when the mysterious hand of death reaches out to pluck a soul. By Victor Hugo Pluck Trembles Reach Flower Stem

In churchmen, luxury is wrong, except in connection with representations and ceremonies. It seems to reveal habits which have very little that is charitable about them. An opulent priest is a contradiction. The priest must keep close to the poor. Now, can one come in contact incessantly night and day with all this distress, all these misfortunes, and this poverty, without having about one's own person a little of that misery, like the dust of labor? Is it possible to imagine a man near a brazier who is not warm? Can one imagine a workman who is working near a furnace, and who has neither a singed hair, nor blackened nails, nor a drop of sweat, nor a speck of ashes on his face? The first proof of charity in the priest, in the bishop especially, is poverty. By Victor Hugo Priest Churchmen Luxury Wrong Ceremonies

In moments like these, offering up his heart at the hour that night flowers offer up their perfume, lit up like a lamp in the middle of the starry night, full of ecstasy in the middle of the universal radiance of creation, he could not perhaps have said himself what was happening in his spirit; he felt something soar up out of him and something fly down into him. Mysterious exchanges between the bottomless well of the soul and the bottomless well of the universe! By Victor Hugo Middle Night Offering Perfume Lit

He kissed the handkerchief, inhaled its perfume, put it over his heart, against his flesh in the daytime, and at night went to sleep with it on his lips."I feel her whole soul in it!" he exclaimed.The handkerchief belonged to the old gentleman, who had simply dropped it from his pocket. By Victor Hugo Handkerchief Inhaled Perfume Put Heart

Love has no middle term; either it destroys, or it saves. All human destiny is this dilemma. This dilemma, destruction or salvation, no fate proposes more inexorably than love. Love is life, if it is not death. Cradle; coffin, too. The same sentiment says yes and no in the human heart. Of all the things God has made, the human heart is the one that sheds most light, and alas! most night. By Victor Hugo Dilemma Term Destroys Saves Love

He thought of that heroic Colonel Pontmercy ... who had left upon every field of victory in Europe drops of that same blood which he, Marius, had in his veins, who had grown grey before his time in discipline and in command, who had lived with his sword-belt buckled, his epaulets falling on his breast, his cockade blackened by powder, his forehead wrinkled by the cap, in the barracks, in the camp, in the bivouac, in the ambulance, and who after twenty years had returned from the great wars with his cheek scarred, his face smiling, simple, tranquil, admirable, pure as a child, having done everything for France and nothing against her. By Victor Hugo Pontmercy Colonel Thought Heroic Marius

They guillotined Charlotte Corday and they said Marat is dead. No, Marat is not dead. Put him in the Pantheon or throw him in the sewer; it doesn't matter-he's back the next day. He's reborn in the man who has no job, the woman who has no bread, in the girl who has to sell her body, in the child who hasn't learned to read; he's reborn in the unheated tenement, in the wretched mattress without blankets, in the unemployed, in the proletariat, in the brothel, in the jailhouse, in your laws that show no pity, in your schools that give no future, and he appears in all that is ignorance and he recreates himself from all that is darkness. Oh, beware human society: you cannot kill Marat until you have killed the misery of poverty! By Victor Hugo Marat Charlotte Corday Dead Guillotined

Proceed, philosophers, teach, enlighten, enkindle, think aloud, speak aloud, run joyously towards the bright daylight, fraternise in the public squares, announce the glad tidings, scatter plenteously your alphabets, proclaim human rights, sing your Marseillaises, sow enthusiasms, broadcast, tear off green branches from the oak trees. Make thought a whirlwind. This multitude can be sublimated. Let us learn to avail ourselves of this vast combustion of principles and virtues, which sparkles, crackles and thrills at certain periods. These bare feet, these naked arms, these rags, these shades of ignorance, these depths of abjectness, these abysses of gloom may be employed in the conquest of the ideal. Look through the medium of the people, and you shall discern the truth. This lowly sand which you trample beneath your feet, if you cast it into the furnace, and let it melt and seethe, shall become resplendent crystal, and by means of such as it a Galileo and a Newtown shall discover stars. By Victor Hugo Aloud Marseillaises Proceed Philosophers Teach

Go on philosophersteach, enlighten, kindle, think aloud, speak up, run joyfully toward broad daylight, fraternize in the public squares, announce the glad tidings, lavish your alphabets, proclaim human rights, sing your Marseillaises, sow enthusiasms, tear off green branches from the oak trees. Make thought a whirlwind. This multitude can be sublimated. Let us learn to avail ourselves of this vast conflagration of principles and virtues, which occasionally sparkles, bursts, and shudders. These bare feet, these naked arms, these rags, these shades of ignorance, depths of despair, the gloom can be used for the conquest of the ideal. Look through the medium of the people, and you will discern the truth. This lowly sand that you trample underfoot, if you throw it into a furnace and let it melt and seethe, will become sparkling crystal; and thanks to such as this a Galileo and a Newton will discover the stars. By Victor Hugo Marseillaises Enlighten Kindle Philosophersteach Aloud

One day the air was mild, the Luxembourg was flooded with sun and shade, the sky was as pure as if angels had rinsed it that morning, the sparrows were twittering deep in the chestnut trees, Marius had opened his whole soul to nature, he was not thinking anything, he lived and breathed, he passed close by the bench, the young girl glanced up at him and their eyes met. What was there this time in the young girl's gaze? Marius could not have said. It was nothing and everything. It was a strange lightning flash. She dropped her gaze and he went on his way. By Victor Hugo Luxembourg Young Marius Girl Mild

We may remark in passing that to be blind and beloved may, in this world where nothing is perfect, be among the most strangely exquisite forms of happiness. The supreme happiness in life is the assurance of being loved; of being loved for oneself, even in spite of oneself; and this assurance the blind man possesses. In his affliction, to be served is to be caressed. Does he lack anything? no. Possessing love he is not deprived of light. A love, moreover, that is wholly pure. There can be no blindness where there is this certainty. By Victor Hugo Perfect Blind Happiness Oneself Loved

As for us, we respect the past here and there, and we spare it, above all, provided that it consents to be dead. If it insists on being alive, we attack it, and we try to kill it. By Victor Hugo Provided Dead Respect Past Spare

Cosette, by learning that she was beautiful, lost the grace of not knowing it; an exquisite grace, for beauty heightened by artlessness is ineffable, and nothing is so adorable as dazzling innocence, going on her way, and holding in her hand, all unconsciousness, the key of a paradise. By Victor Hugo Cosette Beautiful Lost Ineffable Innocence

It would have been difficult to say what was the nature of this look, and whence proceeded the flame that flashed from it. It was a fixed gaze, which was, nevertheless, full of trouble and tumult. And, from the profound immobility of his whole body, barely agitated at intervals by an involuntary shiver, as a tree is moved by the wind; from the stiffness of his elbows, more marble than the balustrade on which they leaned; or the sight of the petrified smile which contracted his face, - one would have said that nothing living was left about Claude Frollo except his eyes. By Victor Hugo Difficult Nature Proceeded Flame Flashed

Marius and Cosette were in the dark in regard to each other. They did not speak, they did not bow, they were not acquainted; they saw each other; and, like the stars in the sky separated by millions of leagues, they lived by gazing upon each other. By Victor Hugo Cosette Marius Dark Regard Speak

All this ferment was public, we might almost say tranquil.The imminent insurrection gathered its storm calmly in the face of the government. No singularity was lacking in this crisis, still subterranean, but already perceptible. The middle class talked quietly with workingmen about the preparations. They would say, "How is the uprising coming along?" in the same tone in which they would have said, " How's your wife? By Victor Hugo Public Government Ferment Tranquilthe Imminent

I believe that pity is a law like justice, and that kindness is a duty like uprightness. That which is weak has a right to the kindness and pity of that which is strong. In the relations of man with the animals ... there is a great ethic, scarcely perceived as yet, which will at length break through into the light, and which will be the corollary and the complement to humans ethics. Are there not here unsounded depths for the thinker? Is one to think oneself mad because one has the sentiment of universal pity in one's heart? By Victor Hugo Pity Kindness Justice Uprightness Law

Monseigneur Bienvenu was simply a man who took note of the exterior of mysterious questions without scrutinizing them, and without troubling his own mind with them, and who cherished in his own soul a grave respect for darkness. By Victor Hugo Bienvenu Monseigneur Darkness Simply Man

Did not i say that things would come right of themselves? said the Bishop. Then he added, with a smile, To him who contents himself with the surplice of a curate, God sends the cope of an archbishop. Monseigneur, murmured the cure, throwing back his head with a smile. God or the Devil. By Victor Hugo Smile God Things Bishop Devil

He, "how many beds do you think this hall alone would hold?" "Monseigneur's dining-room?" exclaimed By Victor Hugo Exclaimed Hold Monseigneur Beds Hall

A saint addicted to abnegation is a dangerous neighbor; he is very likely to infect you with an incurable poverty, a stiffening of the articulations necessary to advancement, and, in fact, more renunciation than you would like; and men flee from this contagious virtue. Hence the isolation of Monseigneur Bienvenu. We live in a sad society. Succeedthat is the advice which falls drop by drop from the overhanging corruption. By Victor Hugo Neighbor Poverty Advancement Fact Virtue

CHAPTER V - MONSEIGNEUR BIENVENU MADE HIS CASSOCKS LAST TOO LONG By Victor Hugo Chapter Monseigneur Long Bienvenu Made

To destroy abuses is not enough; Habits must also be changed. The windmill has gone, but the wind is still there."~old man G--- to Monseigneur Bienvenu Myriel By Victor Hugo Habits Changed Myriel Destroy Abuses

While they were thus embarrassed, a large chest was brought and deposited in the presbytery for the Bishop, by two unknown horsemen, who departed on the instant. The chest was opened; it contained a cope of cloth of gold, a mitre ornamented with diamonds, an archbishop's cross, a magnificent crosier, - all the pontifical vestments which had been stolen a month previously from the treasury of Notre Dame d'Embrun. In the chest was a paper, on which these words were written, "From Cravatte to Monseigneur Bienvenu.""Did not I say that things would come right of themselves?" said the Bishop. Then he added, with a smile, "To him who contents himself with the surplice of a curate, God sends the cope of an archbishop.""Monseigneur," murmured the cure, throwing back his head with a smile. "God - -or the Devil."The Bishop looked steadily at the cure, and repeated with authority, "God! By Victor Hugo Bishop Chest God Monseigneur Embarrassed

There are men who dig for gold; [Monseigneur Bienvenu] dug for compassion. By Victor Hugo Monseigneur Bienvenu Gold Dug Compassion

All their teeth are yellow. No tooth-brush ever entered that convent. Brushing one's teeth is at the top of a ladder at whose bottom is the loss of one's soul. By Victor Hugo Yellow Teeth Convent Brushing Soul

There is a secret drawer in every woman's heart. By Victor Hugo Heart Secret Drawer Woman

Do you know what friendship is?' he asked.'Yes,' replied the gypsy; 'it is to be brother and sister; two souls which touch without mingling, two fingers on one hand.''And love?' pursued Gringoire.'Oh! love!' said she, and her voice trembled, and her eye beamed. 'That is to be two and to be but one. A man and a woman mingled into one angel. It is heaven. By Victor Hugo Friendship Love Gringoire Asked Replied

His universal compassion was due less to natural instinct, than to a profound conviction, a sum of thoughts that in the course of living had filtered through to his heart: for in the nature of man, as in rock, there may be channels hollowed by the dropping of water, and these can never be destroyed. By Victor Hugo Instinct Conviction Heart Man Rock

He sleeps. Although his fate was very strange, he lived. He died when he had no longer his angel. The thing came to pass simply, of itself, as the night comes when day is gone. By Victor Hugo Sleeps Strange Lived Fate Angel

In all his trials he was sustained and at times even exalted by a secret strength in himself. The soul aids the body and at moments uplifts it. It is the only bird that can endure a cage. By Victor Hugo Trials Sustained Times Exalted Secret

The holy law of Jesus Christ governs our civilisation, but it does not yet permeate it. By Victor Hugo Jesus Christ Civilisation Holy Law

In Shakespeare the birds sing, the bushes are clothed with green, hearts love, souls suffer, the cloud wanders, it is hot, it is cold, night falls, time passes, forests and multitudes speak, the vast eternal dream hovers over all. Sap and blood, all forms of the multiple reality, actions and ideas, man and humanity, the living and the life, solitudes, cities, religions, diamonds and pearls, dung-hills and charnelhouses, the ebb and flow of beings, the steps of comers and goers, all, all are on Shakespeare and in Shakespeare. By Victor Hugo Shakespeare Sing Green Hearts Love

Those who every morning plan the transactions of the day and follow out that plan carry a thread that will guide them through the labyrinth of the most busy life. The orderly arrangement of their time is like a ray of light which darts itself through all their occupations. But where no plan is laid, where the disposal of time is surrendered merely to the chance of incidents, chaos will soon reign. By Victor Hugo Plan Life Morning Transactions Day

Each of our passions, even love, has a stomach that must not be overloaded. We must in everything write the word 'finis' in time; we must restrain ourselves, when it becomes urgent; we must draw the bolt on the appetite, play a fantasia on the violin, then break the strings with our own hand. The Wise man is he who knows when and how to stop. By Victor Hugo Passions Love Overloaded Stomach Wise

He felt as though his brain were on fire. She had come to him, what joy! And then, how she had looked at him! She seemed more beautiful than ever before. Beautiful with a beauty that combined all of the woman with all of the angel, a beauty that would have made Petrarch sing and Dante kneel. He felt as though he were swimming in the deep blue sky. At the same time he was horribly disconcerted, because there was dust on his boots. By Victor Hugo Fire Brain Felt Beauty Beautiful

And do you know Monsieur Marius? I believe I was a little in love with you. By Victor Hugo Marius Monsieur Love

Unable to rid myself of it, since I heard your song humming ever in my head, beheld your feet dancing always on my breviary, felt even at night, in my dreams, your form in contact wih my own, I desired to see you again, to touch you, to know who you were, to see whether I should really find you like the ideal image which I had retained of you, to shatter my dream, perchance with reality. At all events, I hoped that a new impression would efface the first, and the first had become insupportable. I sought you. I saw you once more. Calamity! When I had seen you twice, I wanted to see you a thousand times, I wanted to see you always. Then - how stop myself on that slope of hell? - then I no longer belonged to myself. By Victor Hugo Dreams Dream Unable Head Beheld

So long as you go and come in your native land, you imagine that those streets are a matter of indifference to you; that those windows, those roofs, and those doors are nothing to you; that those walls are strangers to you; that those trees are merely the first encountered hap-hazard; that those houses, which you do not enter, are useless to you; that the pavements which you tread are merely stones. Later on, when you are no longer there, you perceive that the streets are dear to you; that you miss those roofs, those doors; and that those walls are necessary to you, those trees are well beloved by you; that you entered those houses which you never entered, every day, and that you have left a part of your heart, of your blood, of your soul, in those pavements. By Victor Hugo Roofs Walls Trees Streets Doors

In the neighborhood she was called the Lark. People like figurative names and were happy to give a nickname to this child, no larger than a bird, trembling, frightened, and shivering, first to wake every morning in the house and the village, always in the street or in the fields before dawn. Except that the poor lark never sang. By Victor Hugo Lark Neighborhood Called Trembling Frightened

"Dost thou understand? I love thee!" he cried again."What love!" said the unhappy girl with a shudder.He resumed,"The love of a damned soul. By Victor Hugo Dost Understand Love Thou Thee

Loving is half of believing. By Victor Hugo Loving Believing Half

Human intelligence discovered a way of perpetuating itself, one not only more durable and more resistant than architecture, but also simpler and easier. Architecture was dethroned. The stone letters of Orpheus gave way to the lead letters of Gutenburg. The book will kill the edifice. By Victor Hugo Human Easier Architecture Intelligence Discovered

The onward march of the human race requires that the heights around it should be ablaze with noble and enduring lessons of courage. Deeds of daring dazzle history, and form one of the guiding lights of man. The dawn dares when it rises. To strive, to brave all risks, to persist, to persevere, to be faithful to yourself, to grapple hand to hand with destiny, to surprise defeat by the little terror it inspires, at one time to confront unrighteous power, at another to defy intoxicated triumph, to hold fast, to hold hard - such is the example which the nations need, and the light that electrifies them. By Victor Hugo Courage Onward March Human Race

The night was starless and very dark. Without doubt, in the gloom some mighty angel was standing, with outstretched wings, awaiting the soul. By Victor Hugo Dark Night Starless Doubt Standing

210Suffering engenders passion; and while the prosperous blind themselves, or go to sleep, the hatred of the unfortunate classes kindles its torch at some sullen or ill-constituted mind, which is dreaming in a corner, and sets to work to examine society. The examination of hatred is a terrible thing.Suffering begets rage, and while the prosperous turn a blind eye, or nod off which is always the same thing as shutting your eyes, the hate of the unprosperous masses has hits torch lit by some malcontent or warped mind dreaming away in a corner, somewhere, and it begins to examine society. Examination by hate is a terrible thing. By Victor Hugo Corner Society Examine Prosperous Blind

There exists, at the bottom of all abasement and misfortune, a last extreme which rebels and joins battle with the forces of law and respectability in a desperate struggle, waged partly by cunning and partly by violence, at once sick and ferocious, in which it attacks the prevailing social order with the pin-pricks of vice and the hammer-blows of crime. By Victor Hugo Partly Exists Misfortune Struggle Waged

Ecclesiastes calls you the All-powerful; the Maccabees call you the Creator; the Epistle to the Ephesians calls you liberty; Baruch calls you Immensity; the Psalms call you Wisdom and Truth; John calls you Light; the Books of Kings call you Lord; Exodus calls you Providence; Leviticus, Sanctity; Esdras, Justice; the creation calls you God; man calls you Father; but Solomon calls you Compassion, and that is the most beautiful of all your names. By Victor Hugo Calls Call Leviticus Sanctity Esdras

Ecclesiastes names thee Almighty, the Maccabees name thee Creator, the Epistle to the Ephesians names thee Liberty, Baruch names thee Immensity, the Psalms name thee Wisdom and Truth, John names thee Light, the Book of Kings names thee Lord, Exodus names thee Providence, Leviticus Sanctity, Esdras Justice, creation names thee God, man names thee Father; but Solomon names thee Compassion, which is the most beautiful of all thy names. By Victor Hugo Thee Almighty Creator Liberty Baruch

It is one of the poignant anxieties of the thinker that he sees the shadow resting on the human soul, and that he gropes in darkness without being able to awaken that slumbering Progress. By Victor Hugo Progress Soul Poignant Anxieties Thinker

But who among us is perfect? Even the greatest strategists have their eclipses, and the greatest blunders, like the thickest ropes, are often compounded of a multitude of strands. Take the rope apart, separate it into the small threads that compose it, and you can break them one by one. You think, 'That is all there was!' But twist them all together and you have something tremendous. By Victor Hugo Perfect Greatest Eclipses Blunders Strands

The just man frowns, but never sneers. We understand anger, not malice. By Victor Hugo Frowns Sneers Man Anger Malice

He fell upon the bench, and she beside him. They had no words more. The stars were beginning to gleam. How did it come to pass that their lips met? How comes it to pass that the birds sing, that snow melts, that the rose unfolds, that May expands, that the dawn grows white behind the black trees on the shivering crest of hills? By Victor Hugo Bench Fell Pass Words Gleam

Is it not a thing divine to have a smile which, none know how, has the power to lighten the weight of that enormous chain which all the living in common drag behind them? By Victor Hugo Thing Divine Smile Power Lighten

pottery and household utensils down on the soldiers from the roofs; a bad sign; and when this matter was reported to Marshal Soult, Napoleon's old lieutenant grew thoughtful, as he recalled Suchet's saying at Saragossa: "We are lost when the old women empty their pots de chambre on our heads." These By Victor Hugo Soult Napoleon Saragossa Marshal Suchet

The spirit of God, like the sun, always gives all its light at once. The spirit of man resembles the pale moon, which has its phases, its absences and its returns, its lucidity and its spots, its fullness and its disappearance, which borrows all its light from the rays of the sun, and which still dares to intercept them on occasion. By Victor Hugo God Sun Spirit Light Moon

Monastic incarceration is castration. By Victor Hugo Monastic Castration Incarceration

Monastic communities are to the great social community what the mistletoe is to the oak, what the wart is to the human body. By Victor Hugo Monastic Oak Body Communities Great

From the point of view of history, of reason, and of truth, monasticism is condemned. Monasteries, when they abound in a nation, are clogs in its circulation, cumbrous establishments, centres of idleness where centres of labor should exist. Monastic communities are to the great social community what the mistletoe is to the oak, what the wart is to the human body. Their prosperity and their fatness mean the impoverishment of the country. The monastic regime, good at the beginning of civilization, useful in the reduction of the brutal by the spiritual, is bad when peoples have reached their manhood. By Victor Hugo History Reason Truth Monasticism Condemned

We see past time in a telescope and present time in a microscope. Hence the apparent enormities of the present. By Victor Hugo Time Microscope Present Past Telescope

Oh, to lie side by side in the same tomb, hand in hand, and to gently touch a finger-tip from time to time in the darkness, would suffice for my eternity. You who suffer because you love, love more than ever. To die for love is to live by it. By Victor Hugo Side Hand Time Tomb Darkness

Teach the ignorant as much as you possibly can: society is culpable for not giving instruction gratis, and is responsible for the night it produces. This soul s full of darkness, and sin is committed, but the guilt person is not the man who commits the sin, but he who produces the darkness. By Victor Hugo Teach Society Gratis Produces Darkness

Everybody has noticed the way cats stop and loiter in a half-open door. Hasn't everyone said to a cat: "For heaven's sake, why don't you come in?" With opportunity half-open in front of them, there are men who have a similar tendency to remain undecided between two solutions, at the risk of being crushed by fate abruptly closing the opportunity. The overprudent, cats as they are, and because they are cats, sometimes run more danger than the bold. By Victor Hugo Cats Door Noticed Stop Loiter

I believe, sir, in all the progress. Air navigation is the result of the oceanic navigation: from water the human has to pass in the air. Everywhere where creation will be breathable to him, the human will penetrate into the creation. Our only limit is life. By Victor Hugo Sir Progress Human Air Navigation

He was indulgent to women and to the poor, oppressed by the weight of society. "The faults of women, children, and servants," he said, "and of the weak, the poor and the ignorant, are the faults of husbands, fathers and masters, and of the strong, the rich and the learned." He also said: "Teach the ignorant as much as you can. Society is to blame for not giving free education; it is responsible for the darkness it creates. The soul in darkness sins, but the real sinner is he who caused the darkness. By Victor Hugo Poor Women Darkness Faults Oppressed

Age, eighteen or twenty, in accordance with a custom which is rather widely prevalent in parliamentary families. In spite of this marriage, however, it was said that Charles Myriel created a great deal of talk. He was well formed, though rather short in stature, elegant, graceful, intelligent; the whole of the first portion of his life had been devoted to the world and to gallantry. The Revolution came; events succeeded each other with precipitation; the parliamentary families, decimated, pursued, hunted down, were dispersed. M. Charles Myriel emigrated to Italy at the very beginning of the Revolution. There his wife died of By Victor Hugo Age Families Charles Myriel Eighteen

She had witnessed a conflict between two men who held her liberty in their hands, her very life and that of her child; one had sought to drag her deeper into darkness, the other to restore her to light. The two contestants, in the heightened vision of her terror, had seemed like giants, one speaking with the voice of a demon, the other in the tones of an angel. The angel had won, and what caused her to tremble from head to foot was the fact that this rescuing angel was the man she abhorred, the abominable mayor whom for so long she had regarded as the author of her troubles. He had saved her after she had most outrageously insulted him! By Victor Hugo Angel Hands Child Darkness Light

Pierce through the livid face of a human being at certain moments as they ponder, look behind the facade, look into the soul, look into the darkness. There, beneath the outer silence, titanic struggles are taking place. What a somber thing is this infinity that each man carries within him and against which he measures in despair what his his brain wants and what his life puts into action! By Victor Hugo Pierce Ponder Facade Soul Darkness

The real human division is this: the luminous and the shady. To diminish the number of the shady, to augment the number of the luminous, - that is the object. That is why we cry: Education! science! To teach reading, means to light the fire; every syllable spelled out sparkles. By Victor Hugo Shady Luminous Number Real Human

The true division of humanity is this: the luminous and the dark.To diminish the number of the dark, to increase the number of the luminous, there is the aim.That is why we cry: education, knowledge! to learn to read is to kindle a fire; every syllable spelled sparkles.But whoever say light does not necessarily say joy.There is suffering in light; an excess burns. Flames is hostile to the wing. To burn and yet to fly, this is the miracle of genius By Victor Hugo Number Luminous Education Knowledge Dark

A wedding is not house-keeping. By Victor Hugo Housekeeping Wedding

Love is like a tree: it shoots of itself; it strikes it's roots deeply into our whole being, and frequently continues to put forth green leaves over a heart in ruins. And there is this unaccountable circumstance attending it, that the blinder the passion the more tenacious it is. Never is it stronger than when it is most unreasonable. By Victor Hugo Love Tree Ruins Shoots Strikes

He understood how to sit down and hold his peace for long hours beside the man who had lost the wife of his love, By Victor Hugo Love Understood Sit Hold Peace

The shades, those sombre hatchers of primitive Christianity, only awaited an opportunity to bring about an explosion under the Caesars and to inundate the human race with light. For in the sacred shadows there lies latent light. Volcanoes are full of a shadow that is capable of flashing forth. Every form begins by being night. The catacombs, in which the first mass was said, were not alone the cellar of Rome, they were the vaults of the world. By Victor Hugo Christianity Caesars Light Shades Sombre

There is a determined though unseen bravery that defends itself foot by foot in the darkness against the fatal invasions of necessity and dishonesty. Noble and mysterious triumphs that no eye sees, and no fame rewards, and no flourish of triumph salutes. Life, misfortunes, isolation, abandonment, poverty, are battlefields that have their heroes; obscure heroes, sometimes greater than the illustrious heroes. By Victor Hugo Foot Heroes Dishonesty Determined Unseen

She was a lovely blonde, with fine teeth. She had gold and pearls for her dowry; but her gold was on her head, and her pearls were in her mouth. By Victor Hugo Blonde Teeth Lovely Fine Gold

I am an intelligent river which has reflected successively all the banks before which it has flowed by meditating only on the images offered by those changing shores. By Victor Hugo Shores Intelligent River Reflected Successively