There is nothing like a dream to create the future.

It is ourselves we have to fear. Prejudice is the real robber, and vice the real murderer.

The wise man is he who knows when and how to stop

He who contemplates the depths of Paris is seized with vertigo. Nothing is more fantastic. Nothing is more tragic. Nothing is more sublime.

Marius was of the temperament that sinks into grief and remains there; Cosette was of the sort that plunges in and comes out again.

To be a saint is the exception; to be a just person is the rule. Err, stumble, commit sin, but be one of the just.

Brothers, he who dies here dies in the radiance of the future, and we are entering a tomb all flooded with the dawn.