“Now for my pains, promise me-“ And she hesitated. “What?” asked Marius. “Promise me!” “I promise you.” “Promise to kiss me on… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
“She dropped her head again on Marius' knees, and her eyelids closed. He thought the poor soul had departed. Eponine remained motionless.… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
“Marius made a movement. 'Oh, don't go!' she said. 'It won't be long.' She was sitting almost upright, but her voice was… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
Promise to give me a kiss on my brow when I am dead. --I shall feel it." She dropped her head again… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
“She let her head fall back upon Marius' knees and her eyelids closed. He thought that poor soul had gone. Eponine lay… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
“There is still a certain grace in a dead festival. It has been happy.” — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
He caught her, she fell, he caught her in his arms, he held her tightly unconscious of what he was doing. He held her… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
“First I loved women, then animals, and now I love stones. They're just as amusing as women and animals and they're much less trecherous.” — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
Nature is pitiless; she never withdraws her flowers, her music, her fragrance, and her sunlight from before human cruelty or suffering. — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
“Have courage for the great sorrows of life, and patience for the small ones. And when you have finished your daily task, go to… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
The peasants of the Asturias believe that in every litter of wolves there is one pup that is killed by the mother for fear… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
Great blunders are often made, like large ropes, of a multitude of fibres. — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
“For love is like a tree; it grows of itself; it send its roots deep into our being, and often continues to grow green… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
“Blacheville smiles with the self-satisfied smugness of a man whose vanity is tickled” — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
“Loving in ignorance, she loved with all the more passion. She did not know whether it was good or evil, beneficent or dangerous, necessary… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
