We are in the hands of those gods, those monsters, those giants: our thoughts.
No one knows like a woman how to say things which are at once gentle and deep.
Eponine and Azelma did not notice Cosette. To them she was like the dog. These three little girls could not count twenty-four years among them all, and they already represented all human society; on one side envy, on the other disdain.
At the approach of a certain dark hour, the light of Heaven fills those who are quitting the light of Earth.
Blind is he who will not see!
A book is so soon made, costs so little, and may go so far! Why should we surprised that all human thought flows that way?