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Her soul trembled on her lips like a drop of dew on a flower.

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
Lips
Flower
Soul
Like
Trembled
Dew
Openness
Drop

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The world of sleep has an existence of its own.
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What is the cat? he exclaimed. It is a corrective. God, having made the mouse, said, 'I've made a blunder.' And he made the cat. The cat is the erratum of the mouse. The mouse, plus the cat, Is the revised and corrected proof of creation.
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Youth, even in its sorrows, always has a brilliancy of its own.
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Scepticism, that dry caries of the intelligence.
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He reached for his pocket, and found there, only reality
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Let us fear the worst, but work with faith the best will always take care of itself.
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We see past time in a telescope and present time in a microscope. Hence the apparent enormities of the present.
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The poetic element lying hidden in most women is the source of their magnetic attraction.
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Genius is a promontory jutting out into the infinite.
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There are many tongues to talk, and but few heads to think.
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What would be ugly in a garden constitutes beauty in a mountain.
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He had not yet lived long enough to have discovered that nothing is more close at hand then the impossible, and that what must be looked for is always the unforeseen.
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Joy is the reflex of terror.
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When a man is out of sight, it is not too long before he is out of mind.
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Popularity? It's glory's small change.
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Each man should frame life so that at some future hour fact and his dreaming meet.
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A republic may be called the climate of civilization.
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And if it happened to be a Christmas-night when the great bell seemed to rattle in its throat as it called the faithful to the midnight mass, there was such an indescribable air of life spread over the sombre facade that the great door-way looked as if it were swallowing the entire crowd, and the rose-window staring at them.
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This child whom we Love, Brings daylight Into our soul.
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The man who fights against his own country is never a hero.
Victor Hugo