Society is a republic. When an individual tries to lift themselves above others, they are dragged down by the mass, either by ridicule or slander.

There are plenty who regard a wall behind which something is happening as a very curious thing.

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.

I see black light (his last words)

No matter who you are, the thought of so much suffering and degradation must cause you to shudder at the sight of a veil or cassock, those two shrouds of human invention.

Music expresses that which cannot be put into words.

One of the hardest tasks is to extract continually from one's soul an almost inexhaustible ill will.