Victor Hugo
Victor Hugo
Victor Marie Hugo; 26 February 1802 – 22 May 1885) was a French poet, novelist, and dramatist of the Romantic movement. He is considered one of the greatest and best-known French writers. In France, Hugo's literary fame comes first from his poetry and then from his novels and his dramatic achievements. Among many volumes of poetry, Les Contemplations and La Légende des siècles stand particularly high in critical esteem. Outside France, his best-known works are the novels Les Misérables, 1862,...
NationalityFrench
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth26 February 1802
CityBesancon, France
CountryFrance
There is one spectacle grander than the sea, That is the sky.
Philosophy should be an energy; it should find its aim and its effect in the amelioration of mankind.
Slaves would be tyrants were the chance theirs.
A poet is a world enclosed in a man.
The day that a woman who is passing before you sheds a light upon you as she goes, you are lost, you love. You have then but one thing to do: to think of her so earnestly that she will be compelled to think of you.
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.
A library implies an act of faith which generations, still in darkness hid, sign in their night in witness of the dawn.
Solitude either develops the mental power, or renders men dull and vicious.
Strong and rare natures are thus created; misery, almost always a stepmother, is sometimes a mother; privation gives birth to power of soul and mind; distress is the nurse of self-respect; misfortune is a good breast for great souls.
I only take a half share in the civil war; I am willing to die, I am not willing to kill.
He had slipped, climbed, rolled, searched, walked, persevered, that is all. Such is the secret of all triumphs.
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.
You have enemies? Why, it is the story of every man who has done a great deed or created a new idea.
Nothing is more dangerous than discontinued labor; it is habit lost. A habit easy to abandon, difficult to resume.