I am not in the world to care for my life, but for souls.

Nature has made a pebble and a female. The lapidary makes the diamond, and the lover makes the woman.

Work, which makes a man free, and thought, which makes him worthy of freedom.

To err is human. To loaf is Parisian.

Whatever causes night in our souls may leave stars. Cimourdain was full of virtues and truth, but they shine out of a dark background.

The death agony of the barricade was about to begin.For, since the preceding evening, the two rows of houses in the Rue de la Chanvrerie had become two walls; ferocious walls, doors closed, windows closed, shutters closed. A house is an escarpment, a door is a refusal, a facade is a wall. This wall hears, sees and will not. It might open and save you. No. This wall is a judge. It gazes at you and condemns you. What dismal things are closed houses.

There are no trifles in the human story, no trifling leaves on the tree.