Love is like a tree, it grows of its own accord, it puts down deep roots into our whole being.

One of the hardest tasks is to extract continually from one's soul an almost inexhaustible ill will.

Conscience is God present in man.

You who suffer because you love, love still more. To die of love, is to live by it.

Proverty and wealth are comparative sins.

To a gargoyle on the ramparts of Notre Dame as Esmeralda rides off with Gringoire Quasimodo says. "Why was I not made of stone like thee?

It is only barbarous nations who have a sudden growth after a victory