Quote

A phenomenon often seen. A sceptic adhering to a believer that is as simple as the law of the complementary colours. What we lack attracts us. Nobody loves the light like the blind man.

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
Nobody
Colours
Seen
Attracts
Law
Phenomenon
Simple
Colour
Often
Believer
Light
Lack
Adhering
Men
Loves
Sceptic
Like
Blind
Complementary

More quotes by Victor Hugo

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Of all the things that God has made, the human heart is the one which sheds the most light, alas! and the most darkness.
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The earlier works of a man of genius are always preferred to the newer ones, in order to prove that he is going down instead of up.
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The soul helps the body, and at certain moments raises it. It is the only bird that sustains its cage.
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The aim of art is almost divine: to bring to life again if it is writing history, to create if it is writing poetry.
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An intelligent hell would be better than a stupid paradise.
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Being good is easy, what is difficult is being just.
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There is always more misery among the lower classes than there is humanity in the higher.
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Nihilism has no substance. There is no such thing as nothingness, and zero does not exist. Everything is something. Nothing is nothing.
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Need is a low door which, when we must by stern necessity pass through, forces the greatest to bend down the most.
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To love or have loved is all-sufficing. We must not ask for more. No other pearl is to be found in the shadowfolds of life. To love is an accomplishment.
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Give to a being the useless, and deprive him of the needful, and you have the gamin.
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He who contemplates the depths of Paris is seized with vertigo. Nothing is more fantastic. Nothing is more tragic. Nothing is more sublime.
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Do you hear the people sing? Singing a song of angry men
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Love is reducing the universe to one being.
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He is the best gentleman that is the son of his own deserts, and not the degenerated heir of another's virtue.
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Hope is a delusion no hand can grasp a wave or a shadow.
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Whatever causes night in our souls may leave stars. Cimourdain was full of virtues and truth, but they shine out of a dark background.
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The hand which moves over the dial moves also among souls.
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He did not study God he was dazzled by him.
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In every cradle decked with rosy wreath Lurk germs of death.
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