Victor Hugo Quotes

Common sense is in spite of, not the result of, education.

Nothing is more powerful than an idea whose time has come.

A one-eyed man is much more incomplete than a blind man, for he knows what it is that's lacking.

As with stomachs, we should pity minds that do not eat.

Curiosity is gluttony. To see is to devour.

To die is nothing; but it is terrible not to live.

The paradise of the rich is made out of the hell of the poor.

mothers are often fondest of the child which has caused them the greatest pain.

Relegated as he was to a corner and as though sheltered behind the billiard table, the soldiers, their eyes fixed upon Enjolras, had not even noticed Grantaire, and the sergeant was preparing to repeat the order: 'Take aim!' when suddenly they heard a powerful voice cry out beside them, 'Vive la Republique! Count me in.'
Grantaire was on his feet.
The immense glare of the whole combat he had missed and in which he had not been, appeared in the flashing eyes of the transfigured drunkard.
He repeated, 'Vive la Republique!' crossed the room firmly, and took his place in front of the muskets beside Enjolras.
'Two at one shot,' he said.
And, turning toward Enjolras gently, he said to him, 'Will you permit it?'
Enjolras shook his hand with a smile.
The smile had not finished before the report was heard.
Enjolras, pierced by eight bullets, remained backed up against the wall is if the bullets had nailed him there. Except that his head was tilted.
Grantaire, struck down, collapsed at his feet.

He loved books; books are cold but safe friends.

And do you know Monsieur Marius? I believe I was a little in love with you.

Life is a theatre set in which there are but few practicable entrances.

Nothing is more imminent than the impossible . . . what we must always foresee is the unforeseen.

Can human nature be so entirely transformed inside and out? Can man, created by God, be made wicked by man? Can a soul be so completely changed by its destiny, and turn evil when its fate is evil? Can the heart become distorted, contract incurable deformities and incurable infirmities, under the pressure of disproportionate grief, like the spinal column under a low ceiling? Is there not in every human soul a primitive spark, a divine element, incorruptible in this world and immortal in the next, which can be developed by goodness, kindled, lit up, and made to radiate, and which evil can never entirely extinguish.

God knows better than we do what we need.