Solitude either develops the mental power, or renders men dull and vicious.
On this point, the priest and the philosopher agree: We must die.
The quantity of civilization is measured by the quality of imagination.
Dear God! how beauty varies in nature and art.
Gavroche had fallen only to rise again; he sat up, a long stream of blood rolled down his face, he raised both arms in air, looked in the direction whence the shot came, and began to sing.
Take all reasonable advantage of that which the present may offer you. It is the only time which is ours. Yesterday is buried forever, and to-morrow we may never see.