Every day has its great grief or its small anxiety. ... One cloud is dispelled, another forms. There is hardly one day in a hundred of real joy and bright sunshine.
Victor HugoMarius was of the temperament that sinks into grief and remains there; Cosette was of the sort that plunges in and comes out again.
Victor HugoAt the moment when her eyes closed, when all feeling vanished in her, she thought that she felt a touch of fire imprinted on her lips, a kiss more burning than the red-hot iron of the executioner.
Victor HugoRevery, which is thought in its nebulous state, borders closely upon the land of sleep, by which it is bounded as by a natural frontier.
Victor HugoLarge, heavy, ragged black clouds hung like crape hammocks beneath the starry cope of the night. You would have said that they were the cobwebs of the firmament.
Victor HugoDo you hear the people sing Lost in the valley of the night? It is the music of a people Who are climbing to the light. For the wretched of the earth There is a flame that never dies. Even the darkest night will end And the sun will rise.
Victor HugoSire, you are looking at a plain man, and I am looking at a great man. Each of us may benefit.
Victor HugoNature is pitiless; she never withdraws her flowers, her music, her fragrance, and her sunlight from before human cruelty or suffering.
Victor HugoThough one believes in nothing, there are moments in life when one accepts the religion of the temple nearest at hand.
Victor HugoBetween the government which does evil and the people who accept it - there is a certain shameful solidarity.
Victor HugoI like the laughter that opens the lips and the heart, shows at the same time the pearls and the soul.
Victor HugoDo you know what friendship is?' he asked. 'Yes,' replied the gypsy; 'it is to be brother and sister; two souls which touch without mingling, two fingers on one hand.' 'And love?' pursued Gringoire. 'Oh! love!' said she, and her voice trembled, and her eye beamed. 'That is to be two and to be but one. A man and a woman mingled into one angel. It is heaven.
Victor HugoI am a soul. I know well that what I shall render up to the grave is not myself. That which is myself will go elsewhere. Earth, thou art not my abyss!
Victor HugoYou say, "Where goest Thou?" I cannot tell, And still go on. But if the way be straight I cannot go amiss: before me lies Dawn and the day: the night behind me: that Suffices me: I break the bounds: I see, And nothing more; believe and nothing less. My future is not one of my concerns.
Victor HugoHave no fear of robbers or murderers. They are external dangers, petty dangers. We should fear ourselves. Prejudices are the real robbers; vices the real murderers. The great dangers are within us. Why worry about what threatens our heads or our purses? Let us think instead of what threatens our souls.
Victor HugoI am in the night. There is a being who has gone away and carried the heavens with her. Oh! to be laid side by side in the same tomb, hand clasped in hand, and from time to time, in the darkness, to caress a finger gently, that would suffice for my eternity.
Victor HugoRhyme, that enslaved queen, that supreme charm of our poetry, that creator of our meter.
Victor HugoThe author creates a book and the people accept or not accept it. The creator of a book is an author and the creator of it`s fate are people.
Victor HugoSublime upon sublime scarcely presents a contrast, and we need a little rest from everything, even the beautiful.
Victor HugoWe shall not attempt to give the reader an idea of that tetrahedron nose-that horse-shoe mouth-that small left eye over-shadowed by a red bushy brow, while the right eye disappeared entirely under an enormous wart-of those straggling teeth with breaches here and there like the battlements of a fortress-of that horny lip, over which one of those teeth projected like the tusk of an elephant-of that forked chin-and, above all, of the expression diffused over the whole-that mixture of malice, astonishment, and melancholy. Let the reader, if he can, figure to himself this combination.
Victor Hugo