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The paradise of the rich is made out of the hell of the poor.
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Since we shall love each other, I shall be great and you shall be rich.
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What is fright by night is curiosity by day.
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There is in every village a torch - the teacher; and an extinguisher - the priest.
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Music is the vapor of art. It is to poetry what reverie is to thought, what fluid is to solid, what the ocean of clouds is to the ocean of waves.
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On this point, the priest and the philosopher agree: We must die.
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Love is the only future God offers.
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The book which the reader now holds in his hands, from one end to the other, as a whole and in its details, whatever gaps, exceptions, or weaknesses it may contain, treats of the advance from evil to good, from injustice to justice, from falsity to truth, from darkness to daylight, from blind appetite to conscience, from decay to life, from bestiality to duty, from Hell to Heaven, from limbo to God. Matter itself is the starting-point, and the point of arrival is the soul. Hydra at the beginning, an angel at the end.
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What dangers you run, O noble souls! Often, you give your heart, but we take only your body. Your heart is left to you and you look at it in the shadows and shudder.
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Marius and Cosette did not ask where this would lead them. They looked at themselves as arrived. It is a strange pretension for men to ask that love should lead them somewhere.
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Lastly, this threefold poetry flows from three great sources - The Bible, Homer, Shakespeare.... The Bible before the Iliad, the Iliad before Shakespeare.
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Right is right only when entire.
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Excitement is not enjoyment: in calmness lies true pleasure. The most precious wines are sipped, not bolted at a swallow.
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The most terrible of motives and the most unanswerable of responses: Because.
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He loved books; books are cold but safe friends.
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I see black light (his last words).
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Where would the shout of love begin, if not from the summit of sacrifice?
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Do not ask the name of the person who seeks a bed for the night. He who is reluctant to give his name is the one who most needs shelter.
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The true artist can only labor con amore.
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Anger may be foolish and absurd, and one may be wrongly irritated, but a man never feels outraged unless in some respect he is fundamentally right.
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There is no distress so complete but that even in the most critical moments the inexplicable sunrise of hope is seen in its depths.
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God has set his intentions in the flowers, in the dawn, in the spring, it is his will that we should love.
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The realities of life do not allow themselves to be forgotten.
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There is always more misery among the lower classes than there is humanity in the higher.