He caught her, she fell, he caught her in his arms, he held her tightly unconscious of what he was doing. He… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
Do you hear the people sing Lost in the valley of the night? It is the music of a people Who are… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
Nothing is more dangerous than discontinued labor; it is habit lost. A habit easy to abandon, difficult to resume. — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
Such is the remorseless progression of human society, shedding lives and souls as it goes on its way. It is an ocean… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
To rescue from oblivion even a fragment of a language which men have used and which is in danger of being lost… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
The day that a woman who is passing before you sheds a light upon you as she goes, you are lost, you… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
He was at his own request and through his own complicity driven out of all his happinesses one after the other; and… — Victor Hugo Copy Share Image
Nothing is more dangerous than to stop working. It is a habit that can soon be lost, one that is easily neglected… — 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
