Victor Hugo Quotes
The animal is ignorant of the fact that he knows. The man is aware of the fact that he is ignorant.
A bird sings, a child prattles, but it is the same hymn; hymn indistinct, inarticulate, but full of profound meaning.
If the infinite had no me, then me would be its limit. It would not be the infinite, therefore it would not be.
The most beautiful of altars, he said, is the soul of an unhappy creature consoled and thankfing God.
The women laughed and wept; the crowd stamped their feet enthusiastically, for at that moment Quasimodo was really beautiful. He was handsome — this orphan, this foundling, this outcast.
In the animal world no creature born to be a dove turns into a scavenger. This happens only among men.
If you are leaving that sorrowful place with hate and anger against men, you are worthy of compassion; if you leave it with good will, gentleness and peace, you are better than any of us.
There comes an hour when protest no longer suffices; after philosophy there must be action; the strong hand finishes what the idea has sketched.
When a man understands the art of seeing, he can trace the spirit of an age and the features of a king even in the knocker on a door.
Without vanity, without coquetry, without curiosity, in a word, without the fall, woman would not be woman. Much of her grace is in her frailty.
Profound hearts, wise minds, take life as God makes it; it is a long trial, and unintelligible preparation for the unknown destiny.
To think is of itself to be useful; it is always and in all cases a striving toward God.
To see so much misery everywhere, I suspect that God is not rich. He keeps up appearances, it is true, but I feel the pinch. He gives a revolution as a merchant, whose credit is low, gives a ball.
What is called honors and dignities, and even honor and dignity, is generally fool's gold.
The truth of an upright man must be accepted on his own terms. Moreover, since natures vary, we must agree that all the beauties of human excellence may be fostered by faiths that we do not share.
This first glance of a soul which does not yet know itself is like dawn in the heavens; it is the awakening of something radiant and unknown.
He who contemplates the depths of Paris is seized with vertigo. Nothing is more fantastic. Nothing is more tragic. Nothing is more sublime.
The ideal and the beautiful are identical; the ideal corresponds to the idea, and beauty to form; hence idea and substance are cognate.
One of the hardest tasks is to extract continually from one's soul an almost inexhaustible ill will.
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)
He sought...to transform the grief which looks down into the grave by showing it the grief which looks up to the stars.
Happiness lies for those who cry, those who hurt, those who have searched, and those who have tried for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives.
He, who every morning plans the transactions of the day, and follows that plan, carries a thread that will guide him through a labyrinth of the most busy life.
Rhyme, that enslaved queen, that supreme charm of our poetry, that creator of our meter.
If people did not love one another, I really don't see what use there would be in having any spring.