My day's work will begin again the next morning. The tomb is not a blind alley.

It is from books that wise men derive consolation in the troubles of life.

Short as life is, we make it still shorter by the careless waste of time.

Let us leave to the brain what belongs to it, and agree that the work of the men of genius is of the superhuman, the offspring of man.

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.

The world of sleep has an existence of its own.

Emotion is always new.