My day's work will begin again the next morning. The tomb is not a blind alley. — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
Let us say it now: to be blind and to be loved, is indeed, upon this earth where nothing is complete, one… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
A one-eyed man is much more incomplete than a blind man, for he knows what it is that's lacking. — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
We may remark in passing that to be blind and beloved may, in this world where nothing is perfect, be among the… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
The tomb is not a blind alley: it is a thoroughfare. It closes on the twilight. It opens on the dawn. — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
A phenomenon often seen. A sceptic adhering to a believer; that is as simple as the law of the complementary colours. What… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
I tried. But I feel that I haven't given utterance to the thousandth part of what lies within me. When I go… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
The book which the reader now holds in his hands, from one end to the other, as a whole and in its… — 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
