Rhyme, that enslaved queen, that supreme charm of our poetry, that creator of our meter. Victor Hug
Profound hearts, wise minds, take life as God makes it; it is a long trial, and unintelligible preparation for the unknown destiny.
Great griefs exhaust. They discourage us with life. The man into whom they enter feels something taken from him. In youth, their visit is sad; later on, it is ominous.
One cannot resist an idea whose time has come.
The cruel of heart have their own black happiness.