Life is the flower for which love is the honey.

God secludes Himself; but the thinker listens at the door.

A man trying to escape never thinks himself sufficiently concealed.

Ah! There you are! he exclaimed, looking at Jean Valjean. I'm so glad to see you. Well, but how is this? I gave you the candlesticks too, which are of silver like the rest, and for which you can certainly get two hundred francs. Why did you not carry them away with your forks and spoons?

The paradise of the rich is made out of the hell of the poor.

Love resembles a tree: it bends under its own weight, deeply rooted in our being and sometimes turns green in the ruins of a heart.

Nothing is more dangerous than discontinued labor; it is habit lost. A habit easy to abandon, difficult to resume.