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Word which the finger of God has written on the brow of every man — hope!

Victor Hugo

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Victor Hugo
Age: 83 †
Born: 1802
Born: February 26
Died: 1885
Died: May 22
Drawer
Essayist
Illustrator
Librettist
Memoirist
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Politician
Travel Writer
Writer
Besac
Victor Marie Hugo
Victor-Marie Hugo
Victor Marie
Comte Hugo
Word
Hope
Brow
Every
Brows
Men
Anticipation
Finger
Hopeful
Wisdom
Written

More quotes by Victor Hugo

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The first proof of charity in a priest, and especially a bishop, is poverty.
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I was always a lover of soft-winged things.
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If we must suffer, let us suffer nobly.
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A writer is a world trapped in a person.
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Ideas can no more flow backward than can a river.
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To die for lack of love is horrible. The asphyxia of the soul.
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France is great because she is France.
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Inspiration and genius -one and the same.
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Children at once accept joy and happiness with quick familiarity, being themselves naturally all happiness and joy.
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Popularity? It's glory's small change.
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Kings are for nations in their swaddling-clothes: France has attained her majority.
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Joy's smile is much closer to tears than laughter.
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And so, being in Heaven, it was easy for him to lose sight of earth.
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Progress is the stride of God.
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Have but luck, and you will have the rest be fortunate, and you will be thought great.
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There is no more sovereign eloquence than the truth in indignation.
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A day will come when there will be no battlefields, but markets opening to commerce and minds opening to ideas.
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We would be ashamed of our best behavior if the people knew the motives of our behaving so.
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I didn't believe it could be so monstrous. It's wrong to be so absorbed in divine law as not to perceive human law. Death belongs to God alone. By what right do men tough that unknown thing?
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The reduction of the universe to the compass of a single being, and the extension of a single being until it reaches God - that is love. Love is the salute of the angels to the stars. How sad is the heart when rendered sad by love! How great is the void created by the absence of the being who alone fills the world.
Victor Hugo