Here we stop. Upon the threshold of wedding nights stands an angel smiling, his finger on his lip.

A tempest ceases, a cyclone passes over, a wind dies down, a broken mast can be replaced, a leak can be stopped, a fire extinguished, but what will become of this enormous brute of bronze?

This book should be read as one would read the book of a dead man.

Strong and bitter words indicate a weak cause.

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

There have been in this century only one great man and one great thing: Napoleon and liberty. For want of the great man, let us have the great thing.

If he had had all Peru in his pocket, he would certainly have given it to this dancer; but Gringoire had not Peru in his pocket; and besides, America was not yet discovered. (p. 66)