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Women are more credulous than men.

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
Men
Credulous
Trust
Women

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Every man is a book in which God himself writes.
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One of the hardest tasks is to extract continually from one's soul an almost inexhaustible ill will.
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Music expresses that which cannot be put into words.
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The persistence of an all-absorbing idea is terrible.
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There is such a thing as the pressure of darkness.
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Our mind is enriched by what we receive, our heart by what we give.
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The ideal and the beautiful are identical the ideal corresponds to the idea, and beauty to form hence idea and substance are cognate.
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God is behind everything, but everything hides God.
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Try as you will, you cannot annihilate that eternal relic of the human heart, love.
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A faith is a necessity to a man. Woe to him who believes in nothing.
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The convent, which belongs to the West as it does to the East, to antiquity as it does to the present time, to Buddhism and Muhammadanism as it does to Christianity, is one of the optical devices whereby man gains a glimpse of infinity.
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I see black light (his last words)
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And so, being in Heaven, it was easy for him to lose sight of earth.
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To breathe Paris is to preserve one's soul.
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There are souls which, crab-like, crawl continually toward darkness, going back in life rather than advancing in it, using what experience they have to increase their deformity, growing worse without ceasing, and becoming steeped more and more thoroughly in an intensifying wickedness.
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Nothing awakens reminiscence like an aroma.
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A fixed idea ends in madness or heroism.
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The miserable's name is Man he is agonizing in all climes, and he is groaning in all languages.
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Man lives more by affirmation than by bread.
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How did it happen that their lips came together? How does it happen that birds sing, that snow melts, that the rose unfolds, that the dawn whitens behind the stark shapes of trees on the quivering summit of the hill? A kiss, and all was said.
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