What is called honors and dignities, and even honor and dignity, is generally fool's gold.

To meditate is to labour; to think is to act. Folded arms work, closed hands perform, a gaze fixed on heaven is a toil.

Every step which the intelligence of Europe has taken has been in spite of the clerical party.

France lost a great novel last night.

Each man should frame life so that at some future hour fact and his dreaming meet.

Here we stop. Upon the threshold of wedding nights stands an angel smiling, his finger on his lip.

The women laughed and wept; the crowd stamped their feet enthusiastically, for at that moment Quasimodo was really beautiful. He was handsome — this orphan, this foundling, this outcast.