Les Miserables (Les Misérables)

“Yes, the brutalities of progress are called revolutions. When they are over, men recognize that the human race has been harshly treated but that it has moved forward.”

The sky was very dark; it was not simply the darkness of night, but there were very low clouds, which seemed to lean on the hills and, ascending, covered the whole sky. A little of the twilight, however, lingered in the zenith; and as the moon was about to rise, the clouds formed in midheaven a vault of whitish light, from which a glow fell to eart

Very well, but that says too much and not enough; it does not enlighten me as to your intrinsic worth, what is unique to yourself, you who probably come with the claim of bringing me wisdom. To whom am I speaking? Who are you?”

Was this narrow enclosure with the sky for a background not space enough for him to adore God in his most beautiful, most sublime works? Indeed, is that not everything? What more do you need? A little garden to walk in, and immensity to reflect on. At his feet something to cultivate and gather; above his head something to study and meditate on; a f

“They are the same: Conscience is science.”

He was out there alone with himself, composed, tranquil, adoring, comparing the serenity of his heart with the serenity of the skies, moved in the darkness by the visible splendors of the constellations and the invisible splendor of God, opening his soul to the thoughts that fall from the Unknown. In such moments, offering up his heart at the hour

A moment later he was walking in the garden, surrendering mind and soul to a dreamy contemplation of these grand and mysterious works that God shows at night to eyes still open.

I do not see one wolf immolating himself for the benefit of another wolf. So let us stay with nature. We’re at the summit, so let’s have a superior philosophy. What’s the use of being better off if we can’t see further than the next man’s nose? Let’s live for pleasure. Life is all we have. Man has another life elsewhere, above, below, anywhere? I d

“The most beautiful of altars,” he said, “is the soul of an unhappy man who is comforted and thanks God.”