Nothing is more imminent than the impossible . . . what we must always foresee is the unforeseen.

Without vanity, without coquetry, without curiosity, in a word, without the fall, woman would not be woman. Much of her grace is in her frailty.

Nothing is really small; whoever is open to the deep penetration of nature knows this.

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

A mother's arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.

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.

A day will come when there will be no battlefields, but markets opening to commerce and minds opening to ideas.