Stupidity talks, vanity acts.

Humanity is our common lot. All men are made of the same clay. There is no difference, at least here on Earth, in the fate assigned to us. We come of the same void, inhabit the same flesh, are dissolved in the same ashes. But ignorance infecting the human substance turns it black, and that incurable blackness, gaining possession of the soul, becomes Evil.

...But listen, there will be more joy in heaven over the tears of a repentant sinner than over the white robes of a hundred just men.

When I speak to you about myself, I am speaking to you about yourself. How is it you don't see that?

That is the explanation of war, an outrage by humanity upon humanity in despite of humanity.

A doctor’s door should never be closed, a priest's door should always be open.

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.