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Humanity Is Our Common Lot. All Men Are Made Of The Same Clay. There Is No Difference, At Least Here On Earth, In The Fate Assigned To Us. We Come Of The Same Void, Inhabit The Same Flesh, Are Dissolved In The Same Ashes. But Ignorance Infecting The Human Substance Turns It Black, And That Incurable Blackness, Gaining Possession Of The Soul, Becomes Evil.

-Victor Hugo

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Humanity Is Our Common

Victor Hugo

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Humanity Is Our Common Lot. All Men Are Made Of The Same Clay. There Is No Difference, At Least Here On Earth, In The Fate Assigned To Us. We Come Of The Same Void, Inhabit The Same Flesh, Are Dissolved In The Same Ashes. But Ignorance Infecting The Human Substance Turns It Black, And That Incurable Blackness, Gaining Possession Of The Soul, Becomes Evil.

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Labor Is Life; Thought Is Light.

Thoughts On Life

The Thirst For The Infinite Proves Infinity.

The Soul Does Not Give Itself Up To Despair Until It Has Exhausted All Illusions.

Strange To Say, The Luminous World Is The Invisible World; The Luminous World Is That Which We Do Not See. Our Eyes Of Flesh See Only Night.

He Had, They Said, Tasted In Succession All The Apples Of The Tree Of Knowledge, And, Whether From Hunger Or Disgust, Had Ended By Tasting The Forbidden Fruit.

Women Play With Their Beauty As Children Do With Their Knives. They Wound Themselves With It.

In Winter There Is No Heat, No Light, No Noon, Evening Touches Morning, There Is Fog, And Mist, The Window Is Frosted, And You Cannot See Clearly. The Sky Is But The Mouth Of A Cave. The Whole Day Is The Cave.... Frightful Season! Winter Changes Into Stone The Water Of Heaven And The Heart Of Man.

The Future Has Several Names. For The Weak, It Is Impossible; For The Fainthearted, It Is Unknown; But For The Valiant, It Is Ideal.

The Book Which The Reader Now Holds In His Hands, From One End To The Other, As A Whole And In Its Details, Whatever Gaps, Exceptions, Or Weaknesses It May Contain, Treats Of The Advance From Evil To Good, From Injustice To Justice, From Falsity To Truth, From Darkness To Daylight, From Blind Appetite To Conscience, From Decay To Life, From Bestiality To Duty, From Hell To Heaven, From Limbo To God. Matter Itself Is The Starting-point, And The Point Of Arrival Is The Soul. Hydra At The Beginning, An Angel At The End.

At The Shrine Of Friendship Never Say Die, Let The Wine Of Friendship Never Run Dry

Sleep Comes More Easily Than It Returns.

Do Not Ask The Name Of The Person Who Seeks A Bed For The Night. He Who Is Reluctant To Give His Name Is The One Who Most Needs Shelter.

To Have Lied Is To Have Suffered.

A Day Will Come When There Will Be No Battlefields, But Markets Opening To Commerce And Minds Opening To Ideas.

That Men Saw His Mask, But The Bishop Saw His Face. That Men Saw His Life, But The Bishop Saw His Conscience.

Sometimes He Used A Spade In His Garden, And Sometimes He Read And Wrote. He Had But One Name For These Two Kinds Of Labor; He Called Them Gardening. ‘the Spirit Is A Garden,’ Said He

The Death Agony Of The Barricade Was About To Begin.for, Since The Preceding Evening, The Two Rows Of Houses In The Rue De La Chanvrerie Had Become Two Walls; Ferocious Walls, Doors Closed, Windows Closed, Shutters Closed. A House Is An Escarpment, A Door Is A Refusal, A Facade Is A Wall. This Wall Hears, Sees And Will Not. It Might Open And Save You. No. This Wall Is A Judge. It Gazes At You And Condemns You. What Dismal Things Are Closed Houses.

God Whose Gifts In Gracious Flood Unto All Who Seek Are Sent, Only Asks You To Be Good And Is Content.

Thought Is The Labor Of The Intellect, Reverie Is Its Pleasure.

All That Was Neither A City, Nor A Church, Nor A River, Nor Color, Nor Light, Nor Shadow: It Was Reverie. For A Long Time, I Remained Motionless, Letting Myself Be Penetrated Gently By This Unspeakable Ensemble, By The Serenity Of The Sky And The Melancholy Of The Moment. I Do Not Know What Was Going On In My Mind, And I Could Not Express It; It Was One Of Those Ineffable Moments When One Feels Something In Himself Which Is Going To Sleep And Something Which Is Awakening.

There Are Many Lovely Women, But No Perfect Ones.

There Are No Weeds, And No Worthless Men. There Are Only Bad Farmers.

Brothers, He Who Dies Here Dies In The Radiance Of The Future, And We Are Entering A Tomb All Flooded With The Dawn.

A Breath Of Paris Preserves The Soul.

Diamonds Are To Be Found Only In The Darkness Of The Earth, And Truth In The Darkness Of The Mind.

Animals Are Nothing But The Portrayal Of Our Virtues And Vices Made Manifest To Our Eyes, The Visible Reflections Of Our Souls.

To Rise From Error To Truth Is Rare And Beautiful.

It Is The Essence Of Truth That It Is Never Excessive.... We Must Not Resort To The Flame Where Only Light Is Required.

Exaggeration Is

To Err Is Human. To Loaf Is Parisian.

You Ask Me What Forces Me To Speak? A Strange Thing; My Conscience.

When A Man Is Out Of Sight, It Is Not Too Long Before He Is Out Of Mind.

Nobody Knows Like A Woman How To Say Things At The Same Time Sweet And Profound. Sweetness And Depth, This Is All Of Woman; This Is All Of Heaven.

A Queen, Devoid Of Beauty Is Not Queen; She Needs The Royalty Of Beauty's Mien.

To See So Much Misery Everywhere, I Suspect That God Is Not Rich. He Keeps Up Appearances, It Is True, But I Feel The Pinch. He Gives A Revolution As A Merchant, Whose Credit Is Low, Gives A Ball.

The Heart Becomes Heroic Through Passion. It Is No Longer Composed Of Anything But What Is Pure; It No Longer Rests Upon Anything But What Is Elevated And Great.

Superstitions, Bigotries, Hypocrisies, Prejudices, These Phantoms, Phantoms Though They Be, Cling To Life; They Have Teeth And Nails In Their Shadowy Substance, And We Must Grapple With Them Individually And Make War On Them Without Truce; For It Is One Of Humanity's Inevitabilities To Be Condemned To Eternal Struggle With Phantoms.

In Love, Such A Word, Whispered, Is A Mysterious Kiss Of The Soul To The Soul.

It Is From Books That Wise Men Derive Consolation In The Troubles Of Life.

If He Had Had All Peru In His Pocket, He Would Certainly Have Given It To This Dancer; But Gringoire Had Not Peru In His Pocket; And Besides, America Was Not Yet Discovered. (p. 66)

Love At First Sight

A Poet Is A World Enclosed In A Man.

Science Is Continually Correcting What It Has Said. Fertile Corrections... Science Is A Ladder... Poetry Is A Winged Flight... An Artistic Masterpiece Exists For All Time... Dante Does Not Efface Homer.

These Greek Capitals, Black With Age, And Quite Deeply Graven In The Stone, With I Know Not What Signs Peculiar To Gothic Calligraphy Imprinted Upon Their Forms And Upon Their Attitudes, As Though With The Purpose Of Revealing That It Had Been A Hand Of The Middle Ages Which Had Inscribed Them There, And Especially The Fatal And Melancholy Meaning Contained In Them, Struck The Author Deeply.

Prayer Is An August Avowal Of Ignorance.

Men Are Still Men. The Despot's Wickedness Comes Of Ill Teaching, And Of Power's Excess,-- Comes Of The Purple He From Childhood Wears, Slaves Would Be Tyrants If The Chance Were Theirs.

Not Being Heard Is No Reason For Silence.

I Am In The Night. There Is A Being Who Has Gone Away And Carried The Heavens With Her. Oh! To Be Laid Side By Side In The Same Tomb, Hand Clasped In Hand, And From Time To Time, In The Darkness, To Caress A Finger Gently, That Would Suffice For My Eternity.

Love Would Never Be A Promise Of A Rose Garden Unless It Is Showered With Light Of Faith, Water Of Sincerity And Air Of Passion. Sometimes We Make Love With Our Eyes. Sometimes We Make Love With Our Hands. Sometimes We Make Love With Our Bodies. Always We Make Love With Our Hearts. If I Could Reach Up And Hold A Star For Every Time You've Made Me Smile, The Entire Evening Sky Would Be In The Palm Of My Hand. To Love Another Person Is To See The Face Of God.

The Miserable's Name Is Man; He Is Agonizing In All Climes, And He Is Groaning In All Languages.

To Love Another Person Is To See The Face Of God.

Happy Valentines Day

Those Who Pray Always Are Necessary To Those Who Never Pray. In Our View, The Whole Question Is In The Amount Of Thought That Is Mingled With Prayer.

Nothing Is More Dangerous Than Discontinued Labor; It Is Habit Lost. A Habit Easy To Abandon, Difficult To Resume.

The Real, Native South Seas Food Is Lousy. You Can't Eat It.

Idleness Is The Heaviest Of All Oppressions.

It Is Nothing To Die. It Is Frightful Not To Live.

Love Each Other Dearly Always. There Is Scarcely Anything Else In The World But That: To Love One Another.

He Saw Before Him Two Roads, Both Equally Straight ; But He Saw Two; And That Terrified Him — Him, Who Had Never In His Life Known But One Straight Line. And, Bitter Anguish, These Two Roads Were Contradictory.

Genius Is Rare Because The Means Of Becoming One Have Not Been Available

No One Can Keep A Secret Better Than A Child.

What I Feel For You Seems Less Of Earth And More Of A Cloudless Heaven.

He, Who Every Morning Plans The Transactions Of The Day, And Follows That Plan, Carries A Thread That Will Guide Him Through A Labyrinth Of The Most Busy Life.

Hope Is A Delusion; No Hand Can Grasp A Wave Or A Shadow.

For True Poetry, Complete Poetry, Consists In The Harmony Of Contraries. Hence, It Is Time To Say Aloud--and It Is Here Above Allthat Exceptions Prove The Rule--that Everything That Exists In Nature Exists In Art.

It Is Only Barbarous Nations Who Have A Sudden Growth After A Victory

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Habit Is The Nursery Of Errors.

Mirrors, Those Revealers Of The Truth, Are Hated; That Does Not Prevent Them From Being Of Use.

In The Domain Of Art There Is No Light Without Heat.

Whenever A Man's Friends Begin To Compliment Him About Looking Young, He May Be Sure That They Think He Is Growing Old.

She Might Have Melted A Heart Of Stone, But Nothing Can Melt A Heart Of Wood.

The Beginning As Well As The End Of All His Thoughts Was Hatred Of Human Law, That Hatred Which, If It Be Not Checked In Its Growth By Some Providential Event, Becomes, In A Certain Time, Hatred Of Society, Then Hatred Of The Human Race, And Then Hatred Of Creation, And Reveals Itself By A Vague And Incessant Desire To Injure Some Living Being, It Matters Not Who.

What Is Fright By Night Is Curiosity By Day.

We Would Be Ashamed Of Our Best Behavior If The People Knew The Motives Of Our Behaving So.

A Library Implies An Act Of Faith Which Generations, Still In Darkness Hid, Sign In Their Night In Witness Of The Dawn.

He Never Went Out Without A Book Under His Arm, And He Often Came Back With Two.

The Straight Line, A Respectable Optical Illusion Which Ruins Many A Man.

Optical Illusions

Go To Sleep In Peace. God Is Awake.

Life's Greatest Happiness Is To Be Convinced We Are Loved.

Friend Is Sometimes A Word Devoid Of Meaning; Enemy, Never.

The Little People Must Be Sacred To The Big Ones, And It Is From The Rights Of The Weak That The Duty Of The Strong Is Comprised.

To Commit The Least Possible Sin Is The Law For Man. To Live Without Sin Is The Dream Of An Angel. Everything Terrestrial Is Subject To Sin. Sin Is A Gravitation.

Strong And Bitter Words Indicate A Weak Cause.

The First Proof Of Charity In A Priest, And Especially A Bishop, Is Poverty.

I Met In The Street A Very Poor Young Man Who Was In Love. His Hat Was Old, His Coat Worn, His Cloak Was Out At The Elbows, The Water Passed Through His Shoes, - And The Stars Through His Soul.

Nothing Is Really Small; Whoever Is Open To The Deep Penetration Of Nature Knows This.

Morality Is Truth In Full Bloom.

Homer Is One Of The Men Of Genius Who Solve That Fine Problem Of Art - The Finest Of All, Perhaps - Truly To Depict Humanity By The Enlargement Of Man: That Is, To Generate The Real In The Ideal.

Not Ill? No Truly, I Am Young, Healthful, And Strong; The Blood Flows Freely In My Veins; My Limbs Obey My Will; I Am Robust In Mind And Body, Constituted For A Long Life. Yes, All This Is True; And Yet, Nevertheless, I Have An Illness, A Fatal Illness,-an Illness Given By The Hand Of Man!

Sacrificing The Earth For Paradise Is Giving Up The Substance For The Shadow.

Great Grief Is A Divine And Terrible Radiance Which Transfigures The Wretched.

Progress Is The Stride Of God.

Style Is The Substance Of The Subject Called Unceasingly To The Surface.

What A Gloomy Thing, Not To Know The Address Of One's Soul.

[t]he Small Is Great, The Great Is Small; All Is In Equilibrium In Necessity.

What Matters Deafness Of The Ear, When The Mind Hears? The One True Deafness, The Incurable Deafness, Is That Of The Mind.

A Shadow Is Hard To Seize By The Throat And Dash To The Ground.

Primitive Times Are Lyrical, Ancient Times Epical, Modern Times Dramatic. The Ode Sings Of Eternity, The Epic Imparts Solemnity Tohistory, The Drama Depicts Life. The Characteristic Of The First Poetry Is Ingeniousness, Of The Second, Simplicity, Of The Third, Truth.

To Introduce A New Play Only Six Weeks After Another Has Been Banned Is Also A Way To Speak One's Piece To The Government. It Proves That Art And Liberty Can Grow Back In One Night Under The Clumsy Foot Which Crushes Them.

He Does Not Weep Who Does Not See.

We Are For Religion Against The Religions.

Thought Is The Work Of The Intellect, Reverie Is Its Self-indulgence. To Substitute Day-dreaming For Thought Is To Confuse A Poison With A Source Of Nourishment.

You Can Give Without Loving, But You Can Never Love Without Giving. The Great Acts Of Love Are Done By Those Who Are Habitually Performing Small Acts Of Kindness. We Pardon To The Extent That We Love. Love Is Knowing That Even When You Are Alone, You Will Never Be Lonely Again. & Great Happiness Of Life Is The Conviction That We Are Loved. Loved For Ourselves. & Even Loved In Spite Of Ourselves.

Because A Fact Seems Strange To You, You Conclude That It Is Not One. ... All Science, However, Commences By Being Strange. Science Is Successive. It Goes From One Wonder To Another. It Mounts By A Ladder. The Science Of To-day Would Seem Extravagant To The Science Of A Former Time. Ptolemy Would Believe Newton Mad.

God Has Bestowed Two Gifts On Man: Hope And Ignorance. Ignorance Is The Better Of The Two.

The Man Is Placed Where The Earth Ends, The Woman, Where The Heaven Starts.

Nothing Is So Stifling As Symmetry. Symmetry Is Boredom, The Quintessence Of Mourning. Despair Yawns. There Is Something More Terrible Than A Hell Of Suffering - A Hell Of Boredom.

Such Is The Remorseless Progression Of Human Society, Shedding Lives And Souls As It Goes On Its Way. It Is An Ocean Into Which Men Sink Who Have Been Cast Out By The Law And Consigned, With Help Most Cruelly Withheld, To Moral Death. The Sea Is The Pitiless Social Darkness Into Which The Penal System Casts Those It Has Condemned, An Unfathomable Waste Of Misery. The Human Soul, Lost In Those Depths, May Become A Corpse. Who Shall Revive It?

Human Intelligence Discovered A Way Of Perpetuating Itself, One Not Only More Durable And More Resistant Than Architecture, But Also Simpler And Easier. Architecture Was Dethroned. The Stone Letters Of Orpheus Gave Way To The Lead Letters Of Gutenburg. The Book Will Kill The Edifice.

All Animals Are To Be Found In Men And Each Of Theme Exists In Some Man, Sometimes Several At The Time.

The Memory Of An Absent Person Shines In The Deepest Recesses Of The Heart, Shining The More Brightly The More Wholly Its Object Has Vanished: A Light On The Horizon Of The Despairing, Darkened Spirit; A Star Gleaming In Our Inward Night.

People Generally Will Soon Understand That Writers Should Be Judged, Not According To Rules And Species, Which Are Contrary To Nature And Art, But According To The Immutable Principles Of The Art Of Composition, And The Special Laws Of Their Individual Temperaments.

What Would Be Ugly In A Garden Constitutes Beauty In A Mountain.

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.

People Do Not Lack Strength; They Lack Will.

Civil War.... What Did The Words Mean? Was There Any Such Thing As "foreign War"? Was Not All Warfare Between Men Warfare Between Brothers?

At That Moment Of Love, A Moment When Passion Is Absolutely Silent Under Omnipotence Of Ecstasy, Marius, Pure Seraphic Marius, Would Have Been More Capable Of Visiting A Woman Of The Streets Than Of Raising Cosette’s Dress Above The Ankle. Once On A Moonlit Night, Cosette Stopped To Pick Up Something From The Ground, Her Dress Loosened And Revealed The Swelling Of Her Breasts. Marius Averted His Eyes.

Certain Thoughts Are Prayers. There Are Moments When, Whatever Be The Attitude Of The Body, The Soul Is On Its Knees.

The Poetic Element Lying Hidden In Most Women Is The Source Of Their Magnetic Attraction.

For Dogs We Kings Should Have Lions, And For Cats, Tigers. The Great Benefits A Crown.

The Realities Of Life Do Not Allow Themselves To Be Forgotten.

Reality Of Life

Nothing Awakens Reminiscence Like An Aroma.

Love Is A Fault; So Be It.

The Last Resort Of Kings, The Cannonball. The Last Resort Of The People, The Paving Stone.

Here We Stop. Upon The Threshold Of Wedding Nights Stands An Angel Smiling, His Finger On His Lip.

Reaction - A Boat Which Is Going Against The Current But Which Does Not Prevent The River From Flowing On.

What Is Said About Men Often Has As Much Influence Upon Their Lives, And Especially Upon Their Destinies, As What They Do.

As For The Bishop, The Sight Of The Guillotine Was A Great Shock To Him, From Which He Recovered Only Slowly.

The Wise Man Does Not Grow Old, But Ripens.

An Intelligent Hell Would Be Better Than A Stupid Paradise.

The Animal Is Ignorant Of The Fact That He Knows. The Man Is Aware Of The Fact That He Is Ignorant.

Without Vanity, Without Coquetry, Without Curiosity, In A Word, Without The Fall, Woman Would Not Be Woman. Much Of Her Grace Is In Her Frailty.

I Like The Laughter That Opens The Lips And The Heart, Shows At The Same Time The Pearls And The Soul.

Never Had The Sky Been More Studded With Stars And More Charming, The Trees More Trembling, The Odor Of The Grass More Penetrating; Never Had The Birds Fallen Asleep Among The Leaves With A Sweeter Noise; Never Had All The Harmonies Of Universal Serenity Responded More Thoroughly To The Inward Music Of Love; Never Had Marius Been More Captivated, More Happy, More Ecstatic.

Philosophy Is The Microscope Of Thought. Everything Desires To Flee From It, But Nothing Escapes It.

Seeing So Much Poverty Everywhere Makes Me Think That God Is Not Rich. He Gives The Appearance Of It, But I Suspect Some Financial Difficulties.

A Mother's Arms Are Made Of Tenderness And Children Sleep Soundly In Them.

Mother Daughter

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.

And So, Being In Heaven, It Was Easy For Him To Lose Sight Of Earth.

So Long As Ignorance And Poverty Exist On Earth, Books Of The Nature Of Les Miserables Cannot Fail To Be Of Use.

Virtue Has A Veil, Vice A Mask.

We May Remark In Passing That To Be Blind And Beloved May, In This World Where Nothing Is Perfect, Be Among The Most Strangely Exquisite Forms Of Happiness. The Supreme Happiness In Life Is The Assurance Of Being Loved; Of Being Loved For Oneself, Even In Spite Of Oneself; And This Assurance The Blind Man Possesses. In His Affliction, To Be Served Is To Be Caressed. Does He Lack Anything? No. Possessing Love He Is Not Deprived Of Light. A Love, Moreover, That Is Wholly Pure. There Can Be No Blindness Where There Is This Certainty.

To A Gargoyle On The Ramparts Of Notre Dame As Esmeralda Rides Off With Gringoire Quasimodo Says. "why Was I Not Made Of Stone Like Thee?

There Is A Secret Drawer In Every Woman's Heart.

Dry Happiness Is Like Dry Bread. We Eat, But We Do Not Dine. I Wish For The Superfluous, For The Useless, For The Extravagant, For The Too Much, For That Which Is Not Good For Anything.

The Repose Of Darkness Is Deeper On The Water Than On The Land.

The Drama Is Complete Poetry. The Ode And The Epic Contain It Only In Germ; It Contains Both Of Them In A State Of High Development, And Epitomizes Both.

A House Is Built Of Logs And Stone, Of Tiles And Posts And Piers; A Home Is Built Of Loving Deeds That Stand A Thousand Years.

The Greatest Blunders, Like The Thickest Ropes, Are Often Compounded Of A Multitude Of Strands. Take The Rope Apart, Separate It Into The Small Threads That Compose It, And You Can Break Them One By One. You Think, That Is All There Was! But Twist Them All Together And You Have Something Tremendous.

France Is Great Because She Is France.

The Soul In The Darkness Sins, But The Real Sinner Is He Who Caused The Darkness.

I Wanted To See You Again, Touch You, Know Who You Were, See If I Would Find You Identical With The Ideal Image Of You Which Had Remained With Me And Perhaps Shatter My Dream With The Aid Of Reality. -claude Frollo

The Most Powerful Symptom Of Love Is A Tenderness Which Becomes At Times Almost Insupportable.

When Dictatorship Is A Fact, Revolution Becomes A Right.

Melancholy Is The Happiness Of Being Sad.

Pleasure And Happiness

What Dangers You Run, O Noble Souls! Often, You Give Your Heart, But We Take Only Your Body. Your Heart Is Left To You And You Look At It In The Shadows And Shudder.

Diamonds Are Found Only In The Dark Places Of The Earth, Truths Are Found Only In The Depths Of Thought.

An Increase Of Tenderness Always Ended By Boiling Over And Turning To Indignation. He Was At The Point Where We Seek To Adopt A Course, And To Accept What Tears Us Apart.

Our Acts Make Or Mar Us, We Are The Children Of Our Own Deeds.

I Would Rather Be The Head Of A Fly Than The Tail Of A Lion.

There Is Will In The Thought, There Is None In The Dream. The Dream, Which Is Completely Spontaneous, Takes And Keeps, Even In The Gigantic And The Ideal, The Form Of Our Mind. Nothing Springs More Directly And More Sincerely From The Very Bottom Of Our Souls Than Our Unreflected And Indefinite Aspirations Towards The Splendours Of Destiny.

Wide Horizons Lead The Soul To Broad Ideas; Circumscribed Horizons Engender Narrow Ideas; This Sometimes Condemns Great Hearts To Become Small Minded.broad Ideas Hated By Narrow Ideas,-this Is The Very Struggle Of Progress.

Don't Educate Your Children To Be Rich. Educate Them To Be Happy, So They Know The Value Of Things, Not The Price.

He Did Not Study God; He Was Dazzled By Him.

Equality Does Not Mean That All Plants Must Grow To The Same Height - A Society Of Tall Grass And Dwarf Trees, A Jostle Of Conflicting Jealousies. It Means, In Civic Terms, An Equal Outlet For All Talents; In Political Terms, That All Votes Will Carry The Same Weight; And In Religious Terms That All Beliefs Will Enjoy Equal Rights.

The Soul Helps The Body, And At Certain Moments Raises It. It Is The Only Bird That Sustains Its Cage.

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.

It Is In The Name Of Moses That Bellarmin Thunderstrikes Galileo; And This Great Vulgarizer Of The Great Seeker Copernicus, Galileo, The Old Man Of Truth, The Magian Of The Heavens, Was Reduced To Repeating On His Knees Word For Word After The Inquisitor This Formula Of Shame: "corde Sincera Et Fide Non Ficta Abjuro Maledico Et Detestor Supradictos Errores Et Hereses." Falsehood Put An Ass's Hood On Science.

There Is No Vacuum In The Human Heart. Certain Demolitions Take Place, And It Is Well That They Do, But On Condition That They Are Followed By Reconstructions.

Everything Speaks: The Flowing Airstream And The Sailing Halycon, The Blade Of Grass, The Flower, The Bud, The Element; Did You Imagine The Universe To Be Otherwise?

Even The Darkest Night Will End And The Sun Will Rise.

These Are True Felicities. No Joy Beyond These Joys. Love Is The Only Ecstasy, Everything Else Weeps

The Most Excellent Symbol Of The People Is The Paving Stone. One Walks On It Until It Falls On One's Head.

My Day's Work Will Begin Again The Next Morning. The Tomb Is Not A Blind Alley.

The Sewer Is The Conscience Of The City.

Every Body Drags Its Shadow, And Every Mind Its Doubt.

Another Story Must Begin!

Smallness In A Great Man Seems Smaller By Its Disproportion With All The Rest.

Her Soul Trembled On Her Lips Like A Drop Of Dew On A Flower.

To Be A Saint Is The Exception; To Be A Just Person Is The Rule. Err, Stumble, Commit Sin, But Be One Of The Just.

It Is An Unpleasant Thing To Go To Bed Without Supper, It Is A Still Less Pleasant Thing Not To Sup And Not To Know Where One Is To Sleep.

Years Place At Last A Venerable Crown Upon A Head.

I Was Always A Lover Of Soft-winged Things.

When The Heart Is Dry The Eye Is Dry.

God Blesses Man, Not For Having Found But For Having Sought.

Who Then Can Calculate The Path Of The Molecule? How Do We Know That The Creations Of Worlds Are Not Determined By The Fall Of Grains Of Sand?

The Word Is The Verb, And The Verb Is God.

Does There Exist An Infinity Outside Ourselves? Is That Infinity One, Immanent And Permanent, Necessarily Having Substance, Since He Is Infinite And If He Lacked Matter He Would Be Limited, Necessarily Possessing Intelligence Since He Is Infinite And, Lacking Intelligence, He Would Be In That Sense Finite. Does This Infinity Inspire In Us The Idea Of Essense, While To Ourselves We Can Only Attribute The Idea Of Existence? In Order Words, Is He Not The Whole Of Which We Are But The Part?

If The Infinite Had No Me, Then Me Would Be Its Limit. It Would Not Be The Infinite, Therefore It Would Not Be.

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.

Men Like Me Are Impossible Until The Day When They Become Necessary.

The Reduction Of The Universe To The Compass Of A Single Being, And The Extension Of A Single Being Until It Reaches God - That Is Love. Love Is The Salute Of The Angels To The Stars. How Sad Is The Heart When Rendered Sad By Love! How Great Is The Void Created By The Absence Of The Being Who Alone Fills The World.

Never Laugh At Those Who Suffer; Suffer Sometimes Those Who Laugh.

Youth, Even In Its Sorrows, Always Has A Brilliancy Of Its Own.

His Whole Life Was Now Summed Up In Two Words: Absolute Uncertainty Within An Impenetrable Fog.

France Lost A Great Novel Last Night.

Of All The Things That God Has Made, The Human Heart Is The One Which Sheds The Most Light, Alas! And The Most Darkness.

The Truth Of An Upright Man Must Be Accepted On His Own Terms. Moreover, Since Natures Vary, We Must Agree That All The Beauties Of Human Excellence May Be Fostered By Faiths That We Do Not Share.

The Sadness Which Reigned Everywhere Was But An Excuse For Unfailing Kindness.

One Of The Hardest Labours Of The Just Man Is To Expunge From His Soul A Malevolence Which It Is Difficult To Efface.

You Have Enemies? Why, It Is The Story Of Every Man Who Has Done A Great Deed Or Created A New Idea. It Is The Cloud Which Thunders Around Everything That Shines. Fame Must Have Enemies, As Light Must Have Gnats. Do No Bother Yourself About It; Disdain. Keep Your Mind Serene As You Keep Your Life Clear.

Whether We Be Italians Or Frenchmen, Misery Concerns Us All. Ever Since History Has Been Written, Ever Since Philosophy Has Meditated, Misery Has Been The Garment Of The Human Race; The Moment Has At Length Arrived For Tearing Off That Rag, And For Replacing, Upon The Naked Limbs Of The Man-people, The Sinister Fragment Of The Past With The Grand Purple Robe Of The Dawn.

A Strange Thing Has Happened, Do You Know? I Am In Darkness. There Is A Person Who, Departing, Took Away The Sun.

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