There is one thing stronger than all the armies in the world, and that is an idea whose time as come.

Loving is almost a substitute for thinking. Love is a burning forgetfulness of all other things. How shall we ask passion to be logical?

Marius was of the temperament that sinks into grief and remains there; Cosette was of the sort that plunges in and comes out again.

Our life dreams the Utopia. Our death achieves the Ideal.

That is to be two and to be but one. A man and a woman mingled into one angel. It is heaven.

He is the best gentleman that is the son of his own deserts, and not the degenerated heir of another's virtue.

The omnipotence of evil has never resulted in anything but fruitless efforts. Our thoughts always escape from whoever tries to smother them.