We are given up to those gods, those monsters, those giants, — our thoughts.

Whatever causes night in our souls may leave stars. Cimourdain was full of virtues and truth, but they shine out of a dark background.

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.

The pupil dilates in darkness and in the end finds light, just as the soul dilates in misfortune and in the end finds God.

Mirrors, those revealers of the truth, are hated; that does not prevent them from being of use.

Jean Prouvaire was timid only in repose. Once excited, he burst forth, a sort of mirth accentuated his enthusiasm, and he was at once both laughing and lyric.

The realities of life do not allow themselves to be forgotten.