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I'd like a drink. I desire to forget life. Life is a hideous invention by somebody I don't know. It doesn't last, and it's good for nothing. You break your neck simply living.
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
Good
Break
Life
Forget
Hideous
Like
Lasts
Neck
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Necks
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Living
Drink
Doesn
Simply
Nothing
Somebody
More quotes by Victor Hugo
Let us leave to the brain what belongs to it, and agree that the work of the men of genius is of the superhuman, the offspring of man.
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Proverty and wealth are comparative sins.
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Nothing awakens reminiscence like an aroma.
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Between the government which does evil and the people who accept it - there is a certain shameful solidarity.
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For there are many great deeds done in the small struggles of life.
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Every body drags its shadow, and every mind its doubt.
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Human society, the world, and the whole of mankind is to be found in the alphabet.
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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.
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God made the water but men made the wine.
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She might have melted a heart of stone, but nothing can melt a heart of wood.
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Whom man kills, him God restoreth to life.
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Woman, nude, is the blue sky. Clouds and garments are an obstacle to contemplation. Beauty and infinity would be gazed upon unveiled.
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Women are more credulous than men.
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My misfortune is that I still resemble a man too much. I should liked to be wholly a beast like that goat. - Quasimodo
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If you wish to understand what Revolution is, call it Progress and if you wish to understand what Progress is, call it Tomorrow.
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In the relations of man with the animals, with the flowers, with all the objects of creation, there is a whole great ethic, scarcely perceived as yet, which will at length break through into the light, and which will be the corollary and the complement to human ethics.
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A bird sings, a child prattles, but it is the same hymn hymn indistinct, inarticulate, but full of profound meaning.
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The word is the Verb, and the Verb is God.
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When, like an Emir of tyrannic power, Sirius appears, and on the horizon black Bids countless stars pursue their mighty track.
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The tomb is not a blind alley: it is a thoroughfare. It closes on the twilight. It opens on the dawn.
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