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“She let her head fall back upon Marius' knees and her eyelids closed. He thought that poor soul had gone. Eponine lay motionless; but just when Marius supposed her for ever asleep, she slowly opened her eyes in which the gloomy deepness of death appeared, and said to him with an accent the sweetness on which already seemed to come from another world:

"And then, do you know, Monsieur Marius, I believe I was a little in love with you."

She essayed to smile again and expired.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

“I know nothing, because I know too much, and understand not nearly enough and never will.”
― Anne Rice, The Vampire Armand

“If you are stone, be magnetic; if a plant, be sensitive; but if you are human be love.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

“The spirit who inhabits her animates us all. Destroy the host, you destroy the power. The young die first; the old wither slowly; the eldest perhaps would go last. But she is the Queen of the Damned, and the Damned can't live without her.”
― Anne Rice, The Queen of the Damned

“Now for my pains, promise me-â€�
And she hesitated.
“What?� asked Marius.
“Promise me!�
“I promise you.�
“Promise to kiss me on the forehead when I’m dead. I’ll feel it.�
She let her head fall back on Marius’s knees and her eyelids closed. He thought the poor soul had gone. Eponine lay motionless, but just when Marius supposed her forever asleep, she slowly opened her eyes, revealing the somber depths of death, and said to him in an accent whose sweetness already seemed to come from another world, “And then, do you know, Monsieur Marius, I believe I was a little in love with you.�
She tried to smile again and died.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

“Et puis, tenez, monsieur Marius,je crois que j'étais un peu amoureuse de vous.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

“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.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

“I encountered in the street a penniless young man who was in love. His hat was old and his jacket worn, with holes at the elbows; water soaked through his shoes, but starlight flooded through his soul.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

“Let us be just, my friends! What a splendid destiny for a nation to be the Empire of such an Emperor, when that nation is France and when it adds its own genius to the genius of that man! To appear and to reign, to march and to triumph, to have for halting-places all capitals, to take his grenadiers and to make kings of them, to decree the falls of dynasties, and to transfigure Europe at the pace of a charge; to make you feel that when you threaten you lay your hand on the hilt of the sword of God; to follow in a single man, Hannibal, Caesar, Charlemagne; to be the people of some one who mingles with your dawns the startling announcement of a battle won, to have the cannon of the Invalides to rouse you in the morning, to hurl into abysses of light prodigious words which flame forever, Marengo, Arcola, Austerlitz, Jena, Wagram! To cause constellations of victories to flash forth at each instant from the zenith of the centuries, to make the French Empire a pendant to the Roman Empire, to be the great nation and to give birth to the grand army, to make its legions fly forth over all the earth, as a mountain sends out its eagles on all sides to conquer, to dominate, to strike with lightning, to be in Europe a sort of nation gilded through glory, to sound athwart the centuries a trumpet-blast of Titans, to conquer the world twice, by conquest and by dazzling, that is sublime; and what greater thing is there?"

"To be free," said Combeferre.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

“Lestat, what did I say last night?' he asked. 'You are the damnedest creature!”
― Anne Rice, The Vampire Lestat

“You let me handle Marius," I said. "Now, you didn't come without you dagger."

"No, I did not," he said, lifting his cloak to reveal it, "And with your permission I would like to plunge it through my heart now so I will most assuredly stone-cold dead before the Master of this house arrives home to find you runnning rampant in his garden!"

"Permission denied.”
― Anne Rice, Pandora

“What have we to fear, we who believe?”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

“Magic pants?â€�
“Without them I’m starkers,� he mused. “Shall I show you?�
“No, I think I prefer the pants.”
― Jamie Wyman, Wild Card

“Marius set out at his accustomed hour for the Luxembourg. He met Courfeyrac on the way and pretended not to see him. Courfeyrac said later to his friends: 'I've just seen Marius's new hat and suit with Marius inside them. I suppose he was going to sit for an examination. He looked thoroughly silly.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

“Ah, but prophecies have a way of fulfilling themselves,' Khayman said. 'That's the magic of it. We all understood it in ancient times. The power of charms is the power of the will; you might say that we were all geniuses of psychology in those dark days, that we could be slain by the power of another's designs. And the dreams, Marius, the dreams are but a part of the great design.”
― Anne Rice, The Queen of the Damned

“Some are born to greatness,â€� Flynn gestured to himself. “Others…â€� He eyed Marius. “Well, then there are just others.”
― Jamie Wyman, Wild Card

“In fact, had it been given to our eyes of the
flesh to gaze into the consciences of others, we should be
able to judge a man much more surely according to what he
dreams, than according to what he thinks. There is will in
thought, there is none in dreams. Revery, which is utterly
spontaneous, takes and keeps, even in the gigantic and the
ideal, the form of our spirit. Nothing proceeds more directly
and more sincerely from the very depth of our soul, than
our unpremeditated and boundless aspirations towards the
splendors of destiny. In these aspirations, much more than
in deliberate, rational coordinated ideas, is the real character
of a man to be found. Our chimeras are the things which
the most resemble us. Each one of us dreams of the unknown
and the impossible in accordance with his nature.”
― Victor Hugo

“Marius, where are my pants?â€�
His grin widened. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
― jamie wyman, Wild Card

“He went straight to ‘his alley,â€� and when he reached the
end of it he perceived, still on the same bench, that wellknown
couple. Only, when he approached, it certainly was
the same man; but it seemed to him that it was no longer the
same girl. The person whom he now beheld was a tall and
beautiful creature, possessed of all the most charming lines
of a woman at the precise moment when they are still combined
with all the most ingenuous graces of the child; a pure
and fugitive moment, which can be expressed only by these
two words,� ‘fifteen years.� She had wonderful brown hair,
shaded with threads of gold, a brow that seemed made of
marble, cheeks that seemed made of rose-leaf, a pale flush,
an agitated whiteness, an exquisite mouth, whence smiles
darted like sunbeams, and words like music, a head such
as Raphael would have given to Mary, set upon a neck that
Jean Goujon would have attributed to a Venus. And, in order
that nothing might be lacking to this bewitching face,
her nose was not handsome� it was pretty; neither straight
nor curved, neither Italian nor Greek; it was the Parisian
nose, that is to say, spiritual, delicate, irregular, pure,�
which drives painters to despair, and charms poets.
When Marius passed near her, he could not see her eyes,
which were constantly lowered. He saw only her long chestnut
lashes, permeated with shadow and modesty.
This did not prevent the beautiful child from smiling as
she listened to what the white-haired old man was saying to
her, and nothing could be more fascinating than that fresh
smile, combined with those drooping eyes.
For a moment, Marius thought that she was another
daughter of the same man, a sister of the former, no doubt.
But when the invariable habit of his stroll brought him, for
the second time, near the bench, and he had examined her
attentively, he recognized her as the same. In six months the
little girl had become a young maiden; that was all. Nothing
is more frequent than this phenomenon. There is a moment
when girls blossom out in the twinkling of an eye, and become
roses all at once. One left them children but yesterday;
today, one finds them disquieting to the feelings.

This child had not only grown, she had become idealized.
As three days in April suffice to cover certain trees
with flowers, six months had sufficed to clothe her with
beauty. Her April had arrived.

One sometimes sees people, who, poor and mean, seem
to wake up, pass suddenly from indigence to luxury, indulge
in expenditures of all sorts, and become dazzling, prodigal,
magnificent, all of a sudden. That is the result of having
pocketed an income; a note fell due yesterday. The young
girl had received her quarterly income.
And then, she was no longer the school-girl with her felt
hat, her merino gown, her scholar’s shoes, and red hands;
taste had come to her with beauty; she was a well-dressed
person, clad with a sort of rich and simple elegance, and
without affectation. She wore a dress of black damask, a
cape of the same material, and a bonnet of white crape. Her
white gloves displayed the delicacy of the hand which toyed
with the carved, Chinese ivory handle of a parasol, and her
silken shoe outlined the smallness of her foot. When one
passed near her, her whole toilette exhaled a youthful and
penetrating perfume.”
― hugo

“Elle laissa retomber sa tête sur les genoux de Marius et ses paupières se fermèrent. Il crut cette pauvre âme partie. Éponine restait immobile ; tout à coup, à l’instant où Marius la croyait à jamais endormie, elle ouvrit lentement ses yeux où apparaissait la sombre profondeur de la mort, et lui dit avec un accent dont la douceur semblait déjà venir d’un autre monde :

� Et puis, tenez, monsieur Marius, je crois que j’étais un peu amoureuse de vous.

Elle essaya encore de sourire et expira.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Miserables

“What is it, Raymond Gallant?â€� I asked. “How can you weep for me? Explain it to me.â€�

“Marius,� he said. “I was taught in the Talamasca that you would be beautiful and you would speak with the tongue of an angel and a demon.�

“Where is the demon, Raymond Gallant?�

“Ah, you have me. I have not heard the demon. I have struggle to believe in it. But I have not heard it. You are right.�

“Did you see the demon in paintings, Raymond Gallant?�

“No, I did not, Marius.�

“Tell me what you saw.�

“Fearful skill and marvelous color,� he answered, not even hesitating a moment as though he’d thought it through. “Wondrous figures and great invention, which gave everyone utter delight.�

“Ah, but am I better than the Florentine Botticelli?� I asked him.

His face darkened. There came a small frown to him.

“Let me answer for you,â€� I said. “I am not.”
― Anne Rice, Blood And Gold

“We know what followed. Marius continued to act absurdly.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

“And then, on the day when his grandfather had turned
him out of doors, he had been only a child, now he was a
man. He felt it. Misery, we repeat, had been good for him.
Poverty in youth, when it succeeds, has this magnificent
property about it, that it turns the whole will towards effort,
and the whole soul towards aspiration. Poverty instantly
lays material life bare and renders it hideous; hence inexpressible
bounds towards the ideal life. The wealthy young
man has a hundred coarse and brilliant distractions, horse
races, hunting, dogs, tobacco, gaming, good repasts, and all
the rest of it; occupations for the baser side of the soul, at
the expense of the loftier and more delicate sides. The poor
young man wins his bread with difficulty; he eats; when he
has eaten, he has nothing more but meditation. He goes to
the spectacles which God furnishes gratis; he gazes at the
sky, space, the stars, flowers, children, the humanity among
which he is suffering, the creation amid which he beams.
He gazes so much on humanity that he perceives its soul, he
gazes upon creation to such an extent that he beholds God.
He dreams, he feels himself great; he dreams on, and feels
himself tender. From the egotism of the man who suffers he
passes to the compassion of the man who meditates. An admirable
sentiment breaks forth in him, forgetfulness of self
and pity for all. As he thinks of the innumerable enjoyments
which nature offers, gives, and lavishes to souls which stand
open, and refuses to souls that are closed, he comes to pity,
he the millionnaire of the mind, the millionnaire of money.
All hatred departs from his heart, in proportion as light
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penetrates his spirit. And is he unhappy? No. The misery
of a young man is never miserable. The first young lad who
comes to hand, however poor he may be, with his strength,
his health, his rapid walk, his brilliant eyes, his warmly circulating
blood, his black hair, his red lips, his white teeth,
his pure breath, will always arouse the envy of an aged emperor.
And then, every morning, he sets himself afresh to
the task of earning his bread; and while his hands earn
his bread, his dorsal column gains pride, his brain gathers
ideas. His task finished, he returns to ineffable ecstasies, to
contemplation, to joys; he beholds his feet set in afflictions,
in obstacles, on the pavement, in the nettles, sometimes
in the mire; his head in the light. He is firm serene, gentle,
peaceful, attentive, serious, content with little, kindly; and
he thanks God for having bestowed on him those two forms
of riches which many a rich man lacks: work, which makes
him free; and thought, which makes him dignified.
This is what had happened with Marius. To tell the truth,
he inclined a little too much to the side of contemplation.
From the day when he had succeeded in earning his living
with some approach to certainty, he had stopped, thinking
it good to be poor, and retrenching time from his work to
give to thought; that is to say, he sometimes passed entire
days in meditation, absorbed, engulfed, like a visionary, in
the mute voluptuousness of ecstasy and inward radiance.
He had thus propounded the problem of his life: to toil as
little as possible at material labor, in order to toil as much
as possible at the labor which is impalpable; in other words,
to bestow a few hours on real life, and to cast the rest to the
1168 Les Miserables
infinite. As he believed that he lacked nothing, he did not
perceive that contemplation, thus understood, ends by becoming
one of the forms of idleness; that he was contenting
himself with conquering the first necessities of life, and that
he was resting from his labors too soon.
It was evident that, for this energetic and enthusiastic nature,
this could only be a transitory state, and that, at the
first shock against the inevitable complications of destiny,
Marius would awaken.”
― Hugo

“It struck me with full force that there had been moments in my long life when I would have found his message irresistible, so great had been my loneliness, so great had been my longing to be understood.”
― Anne Rice, Blood And Gold

“Write it in your histories. Describe my house as you saw it, full of paintings and lamps, full of music and laughter, full of gaeity and warmth.”
― Anne Rice, Blood And Gold

“La verità è che molte donne sono deboli, mortali o immortali che siano. Ma quando sono forti, sono assolutamente imprevedibili”
― Anne Rice