Love is life, if it is not death.

Victor Hugo

Victor Hugo

Profession: Author
Nationality: French

Love is life, if it is not death. Victor Hugo

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The peculiarity of pains of this nature, in which that which is pitiless—that is to say, that which is brutalizing—predominates, is to transform a man, little by little, by a sort of stupid transfiguration, into a wild beast; sometimes into a ferocious beast.

There are fathers who do not love their children; there is no grandfather who does not adore his grandson.

As long as ignorance and misery exist in the world, books like the one you are about to read are, perhaps, not entirely useless.

It behooved wise people to play the part of their own police, and to guard themselves well, and care must be taken to duly close, bar and barricade their houses, and to fasten the doors well.

It is sad to tell, but after having tried society, which had caused his misfortune, he tried Providence which created society, and condemned it also.

There are moments when the hands of a woman possess super human force.

The supreme happiness in life is the assurance of being loved; of being loved for oneself, even in spite of oneself...

Every body drags its shadow, and every mind its doubt.

Nothing is more charming than the glow of happiness amid squalor. There is a rose-tinted attic in all our lives.

Suffering engenders passion; and while the prosperous blind themselves, or go to sleep, the hatred of the unfortunate classes kindles its torch at some sullen or ill-constituted mind, which is dreaming in a corner, and sets to work to examine society. The examination of hatred is a terrible thing.

With certain kinds of people,we allow for the potential development of all the beauties of human virtue within a faith that is different from our own.

He saw nothing of all this. People who are crushed do not look behind them. They know but too well the evil fate which follows them.

He thought her more beautiful than ever, with a beauty that was at once feminine and angelic, that wholeness of beauty that had moved Petrarch to song and brought Dante to his knees.

Knowledge is a weight added to conscience.