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And do you know Monsieur Marius? I believe I was a little in love with you.

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
Monsieur
Littles
Little
Believe
Love

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Smallness in a great man seems smaller by its disproportion with all the rest.
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When love has fused and mingled two beings in a sacred and angelic unity, the secret of life has been discovered so far as they are concerned they are no longer anything more than the two boundaries of the same destiny they are no longer anything but the two wings of the same spirit. Love, soar.
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The sewer is the conscience of the city.
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No matter who you are, the thought of so much suffering and degradation must cause you to shudder at the sight of a veil or cassock, those two shrouds of human invention.
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The peculiarity of sunrise is to make us laugh at all our terrors of the night, and our laugh is always proportioned to the fear we have had.
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Idleness is the heaviest of all oppressions.
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In every cradle decked with rosy wreath Lurk germs of death.
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To give thanks in solitude is enough. Thanksgiving has wings and goes where it must go. Your prayer knows much more about it than you do.
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No one knows like a woman how to say things which are at once gentle and deep.
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Strong and rare natures are thus created misery, almost always a stepmother, is sometimes a mother privation gives birth to power of soul and mind distress is the nurse of self-respect misfortune is a good breast for great souls.
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To die for lack of love is horrible. The asphyxia of the soul.
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Work is the law of life, and to reject it as boredom is to submit to it as torment.
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The ode lives upon the ideal, the epic upon the grandiose, the drama upon the real.
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This child whom we Love, Brings daylight Into our soul.
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What is fright by night is curiosity by day.
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Marius and Cosette were in the dark in regard to each other. They did not speak, they did not bow, they were not acquainted they saw each other and, like the stars in the sky separated by millions of leagues, they lived by gazing upon each other.
Victor Hugo
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The word is the Verb, and the Verb is God.
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Separated lovers cheat absence by a thousand fancies which have their own reality. They are prevented from seeing one another and they cannot write nevertheless they find countless mysterious ways of corresponding, by sending each other the song of birds, the scent of flowers, the laughter of children.
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Love is like a tree: it grows by itself, roots itself deeply in our being and continues to flourish over a heart in ruin. The inexplicable fact is that the blinder it is, the more tenacious it is. It is never stronger than when it is completely unreasonable.
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We are given up to those gods, those monsters, those giants, — our thoughts.
Victor Hugo