“What greater flood can there be than the flood of ideas? How quickly they submerge all that they set out to destroy, how rapidly do they create terrifying depths?”

“Brothers, he who dies here dies in the radiance of the future, and we are entering a tomb all flooded with the dawn.”

“Nobody knows like a woman how to say things that are both sweet and profound. Sweetness and depth, this is all of woman; this is Heaven.”

“They shall exist, and so long as society shall be what it is, they will be what they are. Under the dark vault of their cave, they are forever reproduced in the ooze. What is required to exorcise these goblins? Light. Light in floods. No bat resists the dawn. Illuminate society.”

“For many great deeds are accomplished in times of squalid struggle. There is a kind of stubborn, unrecognized courage which in the lowest depths tenaciously resists the pressures of necessity and ill-doing; there are noble and obscure triumphs observed by no one, unacclaimed by any fanfare. Hardship, loneliness, and penury are a battlefield which has its own heroes, sometimes greater than those lauded in history. Strong and rare characters are thus created; poverty nearly always a foster-mother, may become a true mother, distress may be the nursemaid of pride, and misfortune the milk that nourishes great spirits.”

“Don't you recognize me?''No.''Eponine.'Marius bent hastily forward and saw that it was indeed that unhappy girl, clad in a man's clothes.'How do you come to be here? What are you doing?''I'm dying,' she said.There are words and happenings which arouse even souls in the depths of despair. Marius cried, as though starting out of sleep:'You're wounded! I'll carry you into the tavern. They'll dress your wound. Is it very bad? How am I to lift you without hurting you? Help, someone! But what are you doing here?'He tried to get an arm underneath her to raise her up, and in doing so touched her hand. She uttered a weak cry.'Did I hurt you?''A little.''But I only touched your hand.'She lifted her hand for him to see, and he saw a hole in the centre of the palm.'What happened?' he asked.'A bullet went through it.''A bullet? But how?''Don't you remember a musket being aimed at you?''Yes, and a hand was clapped over it.''That was mine.'Marius shuddered.'What madness! Your poor child! Still, if that's all, it might be worse. I'll get you to a bed and they'll bind you up. One doesn't die of a wounded hand.'She murmured:'The ball passed through my hand, but it came out through my back. It's no use trying to move me. I'll tell you how you can treat my wound better than any surgeon. Sit down on that stone, close beside me.'Marius did so. She rested her head on his knee and said without looking at him:'Oh, what happiness! What bliss! Now I don't feel any pain.”

“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.”