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God blesses man, not for having found but for having sought.
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Phenomena intersect; to see but one is to see nothing.
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Popularity? It's glory's small change.
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Not seeing people allows you to think of them as perfect in all kinds of ways.
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Gutenberg's invention of printing is the greatest event-the mother of revolution.
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Popularity - a piece of faded tinsel, that is out of date.
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God secludes Himself; but the thinker listens at the door.
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God made only water, but man made wine.
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The jostling of young minds against each other has this wonderful attribute, that one can never foresee the spark, nor predict the flash. What will spring up in a moment? Nobody knows.
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He was at his own request and through his own complicity driven out of all his happinesses one after the other; and he had this sorrow, that after having lost Cosette wholly in one day, he was afterwards obliged to lose her again in detail.
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Nothing is really small; whoever is open to the deep penetration of nature knows this.
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Poetry contains philosophy as the soul contains reason.
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I think, therefore I doubt.
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Let us have compassion for those under chastisement. Alas, who are we ourselves? Who am I and who are you? Whence do we come and is it quite certain that we did nothing before we were born? This earth is not without some resemblance to a gaol. Who knows but that man is a victim of divine justice? Look closely at life. It is so constituted that one senses punishment everywhere.
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The real, native South Seas food is lousy. You can't eat it.
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Was it possible that Napoleon should win the battle of Waterloo? We answer, No! Why? Because of Wellington? Because of Blucher? No! Because of God! For Bonaparte to conquer at Waterloo was not the law of the nineteenth century. It was time that this vast man should fall. He had been impeached before the Infinite! He had vexed God! Waterloo was not a battle. It was the change of front of the Universe!
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Though one believes in nothing, there are moments in life when one accepts the religion of the temple nearest at hand.
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Ma vie est une énigme dont ton nom est le mot. (My life is an enigma, of which your name is the word.)
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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.
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Joy is the reflex of terror.
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Wisdom is the health of the soul.
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...But listen, there will be more joy in heaven over the tears of a repentant sinner than over the white robes of a hundred just men.
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Without at all invalidating what we have just said, we believe that a perpetual remembrance of the tomb is proper for the living. On this point, the priest and the philosopher agree: We must die.
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We are given up to those gods, those monsters, those giants, — our thoughts.