At that moment of love, a moment when passion is absolutely silent under omnipotence of ecstasy, Marius, pure seraphic Marius, would have been more capable of visiting a woman of the streets than of raising Cosette's dress above the ankle. Once on a moonlit night, Cosette stopped to pick up something from the ground, her dress loosened and revealed the swelling of her breasts. Marius averted his eyes.
He had not yet lived long enough to have discovered that nothing is more close at hand then the impossible, and that what must be looked for is always the unforeseen.
Life is a theatre set in which there are but few practicable entrances.
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.
The soul in the darkness sins, but the real sinner is he who caused the darkness.
What is fright by night is curiosity by day.
An increase of tenderness always ended by boiling over and turning to indignation. He was at the point where we seek to adopt a course, and to accept what tears us apart.
Diamonds are to be found only in the darkness of the earth, and truth in the darkness of the mind.
I didn't believe it could be so monstrous. It's wrong to be so absorbed in divine law as not to perceive human law. Death belongs to God alone. By what right do men tough that unknown thing?
No corruption is possible with the diamond.
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.
This Boulatruelle was a man in bad odour with the people of the neighbourhood; he was too respectful, too humble, prompt to doff his cap to everybody; he always trembled and smiled in the presence of the gendarmes, was probably in secret connection with robber-bands, said the gossips, and suspected of lying in wait in the hedge corners at nightfall. He had nothing in his favour except that he was a drunkard.
A man without a woman is like a pistol without a trigger; it is the woman who makes the man go off.
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.
It seemed as though he had for a soul the book of the natural law.
People do not read stupidities with impunity.
The peculiarity of sunrise is to make us laugh at all our terrors of the night, and our laugh is always proportioned to the fear we have had.
To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.
Be happy without picking flaws.
He loved books; books are cold but safe friends.
Life's great happiness is to be convinced we are loved.
Sire, you are looking at a plain man, and I am looking at a great man. Each of us may benefit.
The straight line, a respectable optical illusion which ruins many a man.
When love has fused and mingled two beings in a sacred and angelic unity, the secret of life has been discovered so far as they are concerned; they are no longer anything more than the two boundaries of the same destiny; they are no longer anything but the two wings of the same spirit. Love, soar.
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.
Die, very good, but do not make others die. Suicides like the one which is about to take place here are sublime, but suicide is restricted, and does not allow of extension; and so soon as it affects your neighbors, suicide becomes murder.
I have been loving you a little more every minute since this morning.
No Prefect of Police believes that a cat can turn into a lion; nevertheless the thing happens...
The counterfeits of the past take assumed names, and are fond of calling themselves the future. That eternally returning spector, the past, not infrequently falsifies its passport.
This cavern is below all, and the enemy of all; it is hatred, without exception.
More Victor Hugo Quotations (Based on Topics)
Man - Life - Love - God - Soul - Mind - Woman - Nature - Light - Happiness - Society & Civilization - Fate & Destiny - Sadness - Night - Thought & Thinking - Facts - Infinity - Future - Progress - View All Victor Hugo Quotations
More Victor Hugo Quotations (By Book Titles)
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- The Huntchback of Notre Dame
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