Famous Quotes from ...

Victor Hugo



    Forty is the old age of youth; fifty the youth of old age.

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    Each man should frame life so that at some future hour fact and his dreaming meet.

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    He who opens a school door, closes a prison.

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    A faith is a necessity to a man. Woe to him who believes in nothing.

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    Fashions have done more harm than revolutions.

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    A compliment is something like a kiss through a veil.

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    Intelligence is the wife, imagination is the mistress, memory is the servant.

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    Life is the flower for which love is the honey.

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    A mother's arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.

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    All the forces in the world are not so powerful as an idea whose time has come.

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    The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved -- loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.

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    Life's greatest happiness is to be convinced we are loved.

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    Short as life is, we make it still shorter by the careless waste of time

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    Be as a bird perched on a frail branch that she feels bending beneath her, still she sings away all the same, knowing she has wings.

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    Life is a voyage.

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    The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories that it has come to be disbelieved. Few people daresay nowadays that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at eachother. Yet that is the way love begins, and only that way.

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    Adversity makes men, and prosperity makes monsters.

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    I met in the street a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat worn, his cloak was out at the elbows, the water passed through his shoes, - and the stars through his soul.

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    Ask not the name of him who asks you for a bed. It is especially he whose name is a burden to him, who has need of an asylum (room).

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    Loving is half of believing.

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    Society is a republic. When an individual tries to lift themselves above others, they are dragged down by the mass, either by ridicule or slander.

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    Such is the remorseless progression of human society, shedding lives and souls as it goes on its way. It is an ocean into which men sink who have been cast out by the law and consigned, with help most cruelly withheld, to moral death. The sea is the pitiless social darkness into which the penal system casts those it has condemned, an unfathomable waste of misery. The human soul, lost in those depths, may become a corpse. Who shall revive it?

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    Love, thine is the future. Death, I use thee, but I hate thee. Citizens, there shall be in the future neither darkness nor thunderbolts; neither ferocious ignorance nor blood for blood.

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    What a grand thing, to be loved! What a grander thing still, to love!

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    The most powerful symptom of love is a tenderness which becomes at times almost insupportable.

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    There are fathers who do not love their children; there is no grandfather who does not adore his grandson

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    To rescue from oblivion even a fragment of a language which men have used and which is in danger of being lost --that is to say, one of the elements, whether good or bad, which have shaped and complicated civilization --is to extend the scope of social observation and to serve civilization.

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    Love is a portion of the soul itself, and it is of the same nature as the celestial breathing of the atmosphere of paradise.

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