Victor Hugo Quotes
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She had had sweet dreams, which possibly arose from the fact that her little bed was very white.
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Not seeing people permits us to imagine them with every perfection.
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I would rather be the head of a fly than the tail of a lion.
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And, moreover, when it happens that both are sincere and good, nothing will mix and amalgamate more easily than an old priest and an old soldier. In reality, they are the same kind of man. One has devoted himself to country upon earth, the other to his country in heaven; there is no other difference.
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The future has many names: For the weak, it means the unattainable. For the fearful, it means the unknown. For the courageous, it means opportunity.
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There are souls which, crab-like, crawl continually toward darkness, going back in life rather than advancing in it, using what experience they have to increase their deformity, growing worse without ceasing, and becoming steeped more and more thoroughly in an intensifying wickedness.
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Great buildings, like great mountains, are the work of centuries.
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The man who fights against his own country is never a hero.
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I was dying when you came.
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Caution is the eldest child of wisdom.
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A queen, devoid of beauty is not queen; She needs the royalty of beauty's mien.
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The world of sleep has an existence of its own.
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God is behind everything, but everything hides God.
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God knows better than we do what we need.
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Let the one fight for his flag, and the other for his ideal, and let them both imagine that they are fighting for the country; the strife will be colossal.
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It is the essence of truth that it is never excessive.... We must not resort to the flame where only light is required.
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A strange thing has happened, do you know? I am in darkness. There is a person who, departing, took away the sun.
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What says the law? You will not kill. How does it say it? By killing!
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For true poetry, complete poetry, consists in the harmony of contraries. Hence, it is time to say aloud--and it is here above allthat exceptions prove the rule--that everything that exists in nature exists in art.
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I was always a lover of soft-winged things.
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A thousand men enslaved fear one beast free.
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He who despairs is wrong.
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All that was neither a city, nor a church, nor a river, nor color, nor light, nor shadow: it was reverie. For a long time, I remained motionless, letting myself be penetrated gently by this unspeakable ensemble, by the serenity of the sky and the melancholy of the moment. I do not know what was going on in my mind, and I could not express it; it was one of those ineffable moments when one feels something in himself which is going to sleep and something which is awakening.
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We teachers make the road, others will make the journey.