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...Though we chisel away as best we can at the mysterious block from which our life is made, the black vein of destiny continually reappears.
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
Though
Chisel
Black
Chisels
Away
Vein
Best
Veins
Made
Continually
Life
Block
Mysterious
Destiny
Reappears
More quotes by Victor Hugo
An increase of tenderness always ended by boiling over and turning to indignation. He was at the point where we seek to adopt a course, and to accept what tears us apart.
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He who is not capable of enduring poverty is not capable of being free.
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The omnipotence of evil has never resulted in anything but fruitless efforts. Our thoughts always escape from whoever tries to smother them.
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One only needs to see a smile in a white crape bonnet in order to enter the palace of dreams.
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It is often necessary to know how to obey a woman in order sometimes to have the right to command her.
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The drama is complete poetry. The ode and the epic contain it only in germ it contains both of them in a state of high development, and epitomizes both.
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Ideas can no more flow backward than can a river.
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One sometimes says: 'He killed himself because he was bored with life.' One ought rather to say: 'He killed himself because he was bored by lack of life.'
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One of the hardest labours of the just man is to expunge from his soul a malevolence which it is difficult to efface.
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A library implies an act of faith which generations, still in darkness hid, sign in their night in witness of the dawn.
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Another story must begin!
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To learn to read is to light a fire every syllable that is spelled out is a spark.
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The saints were his friends, and blessed him the monsters were his friends, and guarded him.
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A day will come when a cannon will be exhibited in museums, just as instruments of torture are now, and the people will be astonished that such a thing could have been.
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The wicked envy and hate it is their way of admiring.
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Hope is a delusion no hand can grasp a wave or a shadow.
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We are for religion against the religions.
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The beautiful has but one type, the ugly has a thousand.
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Not being heard is no reason for silence.
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Where the telescope ends the microscope begins, and which has the wider vision?
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