100+ The Hunchback of Notre Dame Quotes About The Innocent Quasimodo

The Hunchback of Notre Dame saying

These The Hunchback of Notre Dame Quotes About The Innocent Quasimodo. There are so many The Hunchback quotes that can help you when you are tired of being in the same old rut, and all you need is a little push, a little inspiration, a smile on the face, change of mood, bring you out of the banality of life, make you laugh a little, or may even make you cry a bit, and these The Hunchback quotes exists just do that.

There are times when the animated movies which are usually made keeping the children in mind have mature content. With concepts like infanticide and damnation and genocide the movie “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” is surely one of them but this movie was still given the rating where kids could watch it too and it opened to huge collections at the box office courtesy the great work done by the director in the depiction of the story.

The movie released in the year 1996 and was produced by the Walt Disney Feature animation films.  The basis of the movie is derived from a novel by Victor Hugo and it is during the times that were regarded as the renaissance period for the Disney world. The movie was directed by Gary Trousdale and Kirk Wise and for a very long time, it remained as one of the most mature animated movies made.

The plot of the movie revolved around the bell ringer Quasimodo in Notre Dame. He had a crooked appearance with a hunchback and thus was often ridiculed and made fun of. He had grown up as a nice young man who never stepped out of the cathedral in twenty years. The movie is about how he gained acceptance in society and his quest of being loved by all irrespective of his appearance. The gripping story did catch on with the audiences and as a result, the movie had huge collections to show for.

The budget was $100 million and the end result came to somewhere around $325.3 million. The voice cast of the movie too was full of major Hollywood stars like Demi Moore, Tom Hulce and Tony Jay. All in all, this was a complete movie with the perfect storyline and excellent production which has managed to make it so famous after so many years of its release.

We have dug up these The Hunchback quotes from the depths of the internet and brought together best of these sayings in a single article. This post is probably the biggest database of The Hunchback Sayings in a single place. These famous The Hunchback quotes have the power to change your life by giving a novel outlook about the way you observe different aspects of your life. Hence, these popular The Hunchback quotes should be read with caution and proper understanding of the context. Here are tons of The Hunchback quotes that will open a treasure chest of Wisdom and experiences: –

“Nothing makes a man so adventurous as an empty pocket.”

The Hunchback of Notre Dame Quotes

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“When you get an idea into your head you find it in everything.”

The Hunchback of Notre Dame famous Quotes

“…mothers are often fondest of the child which has caused them the greatest pain.”

The Hunchback of Notre Dame popular Quotes

“He reached for his pocket, and found there, only reality”

The Hunchback of Notre Dame Quotes

“One drop of wine is enough to redden a whole glass of water.”

The Hunchback of Notre Dame saying

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“You would have imagined her at one moment a maniac, at another a queen.”

“?”Dost thou understand? I love thee!” he cried again.”What love!” said the unhappy girl with a shudder.He resumed,–“The love of a damned soul.”

“The saints were his friends, and blessed him; the monsters were his friends, and guarded him.”

“He left her. She was dissatisfied with him. He had preferred to incur her anger rather than cause her pain. He had kept all the pain for himself.”

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“Love is like a tree: it shoots of itself; it strikes it’s roots deeply into our whole being, and frequently continues to put forth green leaves over a heart in ruins. And there is this unaccountable circumstance attending it, that the blinder the passion the more tenacious it is. Never is it stronger than when it is most unreasonable.”

“At the moment when her eyes closed, when all feeling vanished in her, she thought that she felt a touch of fire imprinted on her lips, a kiss more burning than the red-hot iron of the executioner.”


“To a gargoyle on the ramparts of Notre Dame as Esmeralda rides off with Gringoire Quasimodo says. “Why was I not made of stone like thee?”

“The greatest products of architecture are less the works of individuals than of society; rather the offspring of a nation’s effort, than the inspired flash of a man of genius…”

“His judgement demonstrates that one can be a genius and understand nothing of an art that is not one’s own.”

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“If he had had all Peru in his pocket, he would certainly have given it to this dancer; but Gringoire had not Peru in his pocket; and besides, America was not yet discovered. (p. 66)”

“by making himself a priest made himself a demon.”

“And if you wish to receive of the ancient city an impression with which the modern one can no longer furnish you, climb–on the morning of some grand festival, beneath the rising sun of Easter or of Pentecost–climb upon some elevated point, whence you command the entire capital; and be present at the wakening of the chimes. Behold, at a signal given from heaven, for it is the sun which gives it, all those churches quiver simultaneously. First come scattered strokes, running from one church to another, as when musicians give warning that they are about to begin. Then, all at once, behold!–for it seems at times, as though the ear also possessed a sight of its own,–behold, rising from each bell tower, something like a column of sound, a cloud of harmony. First, the vibration of each bell mounts straight upwards, pure and, so to speak, isolated from the others, into the splendid morning sky; then, little by little, as they swell they melt together, mingle, are lost in each other, and amalgamate in a magnificent concert. It is no longer anything but a mass of sonorous vibrations incessantly sent forth from the numerous belfries; floats, undulates, bounds, whirls over the city, and prolongs far beyond the horizon the deafening circle of its oscillations.

Nevertheless, this sea of harmony is not a chaos; great and profound as it is, it has not lost its transparency; you behold the windings of each group of notes which escapes from the belfries. ”

“Large, heavy, ragged black clouds hung like crape hammocks beneath the starry cope of the night. You would have said that they were the cobwebs of the firmament.”

“But alas, if I have not maintained my victory, it is God’s fault for not making man and the devil of equal strength.”

“The owl goes not into the nest of the lark.”

“…in better company, they found among all those hideous carcasses two skeletons, one of which held the other in its embrace. One of these skeletons, which was that of a woman, still had a few strips of a garment which had once been white, and around her neck was to be seen a string of adrezarach beads with a little silk bag ornamented with green glass, which was open and empty. These objects were of so little value that the executioner had probably not cared for them. The other, which held this one in a close embrace, was the skeleton of a man. It was noticed that his spinal column was crooked, his head seated on his shoulder blades, and that one leg was shorter than the other. Moreover, there was no fracture of the vertebrae at the nape of the neck, and it was evident that he had not been hanged. Hence, the man to whom it had belonged had come thither and had died there. When they tried to detach the skeleton which he held in his embrace, he fell to dust.”

“Admirable, however, as the Paris of the present day appears to you, build up and put together again in imagination the Paris of the fifteenth century; look at the light through that surprising host of steeples, towers, and belfries; pour forth amid the immense city, break against the points of its islands, compress within the arches of the bridges, the current of the Seine, with its large patches of green and yellow, more changeable than a serpent’s skin; define clearly the Gothic profile of this old Paris upon an horizon of azure, make its contour float in a wintry fog which clings to its innumerable chimneys; drown it in deep night, and observe the extraordinary play of darkness and light in this sombre labyrinth of buildings; throw into it a ray of moonlight, which shall show its faint outline and cause the huge heads of the towers to stand forth from amid the mist; or revert to that dark picture, touch up with shade the thousand acute angles of the spires and gables, and make them stand out, more jagged than a shark’s jaw, upon the copper-coloured sky of evening. Now compare the two.”

“When a man understands the art of seeing, he can trace the spirit of an age and the features of a king even in the knocker on a door.”

“For love is like a tree; it grows of itself; it send its roots deep into our being, and often continues to grow green over a heart in ruins.”

“He found that man needs affection, that life without a warming love is but a dry wheel, creaking and grating as it turns.”

“Oh! Everything I loved!”

“This will destroy that. The book will kill the edifice.”

“I bear the dungeon within me; within me is winter, ice, and despair; I have darkness in my soul.”

“Homo homini monstrum”

“When a man does wrong, he should do all the wrong he can; it is madness to stop half-way in crime!”

“Excess of grief, like excess of joy is a violent thing which lasts but a short time. The heart of man cannot remain long in one extremity.”

“He had, they said, tasted in succession all the apples of the tree of knowledge, and, whether from hunger or disgust, had ended by tasting the forbidden fruit.”

“My misfortune is that I still resemble a man too much. I should liked to be wholly a beast like that goat. – Quasimodo”

“I’d rather be the head of a fly than the tail of a lion.”

“So you’re giving up? That’s it? Okay, okay. We’ll leave you alone, Quasimodo. We just thought, maybe you’re made up of something much stronger.”

“You asked me why I saved you. You have forgotten a villain who tried to carry you off one night,- a villain to whom the very next day you brought relief upon their infamous pillory. A drop of water and a little pity are more than my whole life can ever repay. You have forgotten that villain; but he remembers.”

~Quasimodo to Esmeralda~”

“There are moments when the hands of a woman possess super human force.”

“Dost thou understand? I love thee!” he cried again. “What love!” said the unhappy girl with a shudder. He resumed,–“The love of a damned soul.”

“Phoebus de Chateaupers likewise came to a ‘tragic end’: he married.”

“Unable to rid myself of it, since I heard your song humming ever in my head, beheld your feet dancing always on my breviary, felt even at night, in my dreams, your form in contact wih my own, I desired to see you again, to touch you, to know who you were, to see whether I should really find you like the ideal image which I had retained of you, to shatter my dream, perchance with reality. At all events, I hoped that a new impression would efface the first, and the first had become insupportable. I sought you. I saw you once more. Calamity! When I had seen you twice, I wanted to see you a thousand times, I wanted to see you always. Then – how stop myself on that slope of hell? – then I no longer belonged to myself.”

“a mother who loses her child can no longer believe in God”

“He was fine; he, that orphan that foundling that outcast; he felt himself august and strong; he looked full in the face that society from which he was banished, and into which he had so powerfully intervened; that human justice from which he had snatched its prey; all those tigers whose jaws perforce remained empty; those myrmidons, those judges, those executioners, all that royal power which he, poor, insignificant being, had foiled with the power of God.”

“I never realized my ugliness till now. When I compared myself with you, I pity myself indeed, poor unhappy monster that I am! I must seem to you like some awful beast, eh? You,-you are a sunbeam, a drop of dew, a bird’s song! As for me, I am something frightful, neither man nor beast,- a nondescript object, more hard, shapeless, and more trodden under foot than a pebble!”

“For dogs we kings should have lions, and for cats, tigers. The great benefits a crown.”

“Paris, viewed from the towers of Notre Dame in the cool dawn of a summer morning, is a delectable and a magnificent sight; and the Paris of that period must have been eminently so.”

“Besides, to be fair to him, his viciousness was perhaps not innate. From his earliest steps among men he had felt, then seen himself the object of jeers, condemnation, rejection. Human speech for him always meant mockery and curses. As he grew older he had found nothing but hatred around him. He had caught it. He had acquired the general viciousness. He had picked up the weapon with which he had been wounded.”

“Notre-Dame de Paris is, in particular, a curious specimen of this variety. Each face, each stone of the venerable monument, is a page not only of the history of the country, but of the history of science and art as well.”

“Great edifices, like great mountains, are the work of the ages.”

“Where women are honored, the divinities are pleased. Where they are despised, it is useless to pray to God.”

“It is like a skull, which still has holes for eyes, but no longer sight.”

“Djali trotted along behind them, so overjoyed at seeing Gringoire again that she constantly made him stumble by affectionately putting her horns between his legs. ‘That’s life,’ said the philosopher, each time he narrowly escaped falling flat on his face. ‘It’s often our best friends who cause our downfall.”

“Do you know what friendship is?’ he asked. ‘Yes,’ answered the gipsy; ‘it is to be brother and sister, two souls which meet without mingling, two fingers of one hand.’ ‘And love?’ continued Gringoire. ‘Oh, love!’ said she, and her voice trembled and her eye brightened. ‘That is to be two and yet but one. A man and a woman blended into an angel. It is heaven itself.”

“He baptized his adopted child, and named him Quasimodo, either because he wished to mark in this way the day upon which the child was found, or because he wished to show by this name how imperfect and incomplete the poor little creature was. Indeed, Quasimodo, one eyed, hunchbacked, and knock kneed, was hardly more than half made.”

“With a remainder of that brotherly compassion which is never totally absent from the heart of a drinker, Phoebus rolled Jehan with his foot onto one of those poor man’s pillows which Providence provides on all the street corners of Paris and which the rich disdainfully refer to as heaps of garbage.”

“But, reverend master, it is not sufficient to pass one’s life, one must earn the means for life.”

“Many people in Paris are quite content to look on at others, and there are plenty who regard a wall behind which something is happening as a very curious thing.”

“When one has but a single idea he finds in it everything.”

“It would have been difficult to say what was the nature of this look, and whence proceeded the flame that flashed from it. It was a fixed gaze, which was, nevertheless, full of trouble and tumult. And, from the profound immobility of his whole body, barely agitated at intervals by an involuntary shiver, as a tree is moved by the wind; from the stiffness of his elbows, more marble than the balustrade on which they leaned; or the sight of the petrified smile which contracted his face,— one would have said that nothing living was left about Claude Frollo except his eyes.”

“some even affirmed that they had passed the night across the threshold of the great door, in order to make sure that they should be the first to pass in. The crowd”

“When one does wrong, one must do it thoroughly.”

“C’est que l’amour est comme un arbre, il pousse de lui-même, jette profondément ses racines dans tout notre être, et continue souvent de verdoyer sur un cœur en ruines. Et ce qu’il y a d’inexplicable, c’est que plus cette passion est aveugle, plus elle est tenace. Elle n’est jamais plus solide que lorsqu’elle n’a pas de raison en elle. ”

“Claude, saddened and discouraged in his human affections, by all this, had flung himself eagerly into the arms of learning, that sister which, at least does not laugh in your face, and which always pays you, though in money that is sometimes a little hollow, for the attention which you have paid to her. Hence, he became more and more learned, and, at the same time, as a natural consequence, more and more rigid as a priest, more and more sad as a man.”

“Hence, that crown is the money of hell.”

“The sixth of January, 1482, is not, however, a day of which history has preserved the memory. There was nothing notable in the event which thus set the bells and the bourgeois of Paris in a ferment from early morning. It was neither an assault by the Picards nor the Burgundians, nor a hunt led along in procession, nor a revolt of scholars in the town of Laas, nor an entry of “our much dread lord, monsieur the king,” nor even a pretty hanging of male and female thieves by the courts of Paris. Neither was it the arrival, so frequent in the fifteenth”

“Y la memoria es el tormento de los celosos”

“In front marched Egypt. The Duke of Egypt at their head, on horseback, with his counts on foot, holding his bridle and stirrups; behind them the Egyptians, men and women, in any order, with their young children yelling on their shoulders; all of them, duke, counts, common people, in rags and tinsel. Then came the kingdom of the argot, that is to say, every thief in France, graded in order of rank, the lowest going in front. Thus there filed past in column of four, in the various insignia of their grades in this strange academy, the majority crippled, some of them lame, others with only one arm, the upright men, the counterfeit cranks, the rufflers, the kinchincoves, the Abraham-men, the fraters, the dommerars, the trulls, the whipjacks, the prygges, the drawlatches, the robardesmen, the clapper-dogens; an enumeration to weary Homer.”

“I wanted to see you again, touch you, know who you were, see if I would find you identical with the ideal image of you which had remained with me and perhaps shatter my dream with the aid of reality.”

“Love is like a tree; it sprouts forth of itself, sends its roots out deeply through our whole being, and often continues to flourish greenly over a heart in ruins. And the inexplicable point about it is that the more blind is this passion, the more tenacious it is. It is never more solid than when it has no reason in it.”

“There are for each of us several parallelisms between our intelligence, our habits, and our character, which develop without a break, and break only in the great disturbances of life.”

“Time is greedy, man is greedier”

“I tell you, monsieur, it’s the end of the world. The students’ behaviour has never been so outrageous. It’s all these damnable modern inventions that are the ruin of everything.”

“great events have incalculable results.”

“Why, there’s the air, the sky, the morning, the evening, moonlight, my friends, women, the beautiful architecture of Paris to study, three big books to write and all sorts of other things. Anaxagoras used to say that he was in the world in order to admire the sun. And then I have the good fortune to be able to spend my days from morning to night in the company of a man of genius – myself – and it’s very pleasant.”

“El exceso del dolor como el exceso de la alegría, es una cosa violenta que dura poco: el corazón del hombre no puede durar mucho en un extremo.”

“The sixth of January, 1482, is not, however, a day of which history has preserved the memory. There was nothing notable in the event which thus set the bells and the bourgeois of Paris in a ferment from early morning. It was neither an assault by the Picards nor the Burgundians, nor a hunt led along in procession, nor a revolt of scholars in the town of Laas, nor an entry of “our much dread lord, monsieur the king,” nor even a pretty hanging of male and female thieves by the courts of Paris. Neither was it the arrival, so frequent in the fifteenth century, of some plumed and bedizened embassy. It was barely two days since the last cavalcade of that nature, that of the Flemish ambassadors charged with concluding the marriage between the dauphin and Marguerite of Flanders, had made its entry into Paris, to the great annoyance of M. lé Cardinal de Bourbon, who, for the sake of pleasing the king, had been obliged to assume an amiable mien towards this whole rustic rabble of Flemish burgomasters, and to regale them at his Hôtel de Bourbon, with a very “pretty morality, allegorical satire, and farce,” while a driving rain drenched the magnificent tapestries at his door.”

“Unable to rid myself of it, since I heard your song humming ever in my head, beheld your feet dancing always on my breviary, felt even at night, in my dreams, your form in contact with my own, I desired to see you again, to touch you, to know who you were, to see whether I should really find you like the ideal image which I had retained of you, to shatter my dream, perchance, with reality. At all events, I hoped that a new impression would efface the first, and the first had become insupportable. I sought you. I saw you once more. Calamity! When I had seen you twice, I wanted to see you a thousand times, I wanted to see you always.”

“In proportion as architecture degenerated, printing throve and flourished. The capital of forces which human thought had expended in building, it henceforth expended in books.”

“A book is so soon made, costs so little, and may go so far! Why should we surprised that all human thought flows that way?”

“to be hated! to love with all the fury of one’s soul; to feel that one would give for the least of her smiles, one’s blood, one’s vitals, one’s fame, one’s salvation, one’s immortality and eternity,”

“would go somewhere, we would seek that spot on earth, where the sun is brightest, the sky the bluest, where the trees are most luxuriant. We would love each other, we would pour our two souls into each other, and we would have a thirst for ourselves which we would quench in common and incessantly at that fountain of inexhaustible love.” She interrupted with a terrible and thrilling laugh. “Look, father, you have blood on your fingers!”
? Victor Hugo, The Hunchback Of Notre Dame

“Furono trovati tra tutte quelle carcasse raccapriccianti due scheletri di cui uno teneva l’altro strettamente abbracciato. Uno di questi due scheletri, che era quello di una donna, aveva ancora qualche brandello di una veste la cui stoffa doveva essere stata bianca e intorno al collo una collana di adrézarach con un sacchettino di seta, ornato di vetri verdi, che era aperto e vuoto. Quegli oggetti avevano così poco valore che senza dubbio il boia non li aveva voluti. L’altro, che teneva questo primo scheletro strettamente abbracciato, era lo scheletro di un uomo. Fu notato che aveva la colonna vertebrale deviata, la testa nelle scapole, e una gamba più corta dell’altra. Non aveva però alcuna rottura di vertebre alla nuca, ed era evidente che non era stato impiccato. L’uomo al quale apparteneva era dunque andato là, e là vi era morto.
Quando si cercò di staccarlo dallo scheletro che abbracciava, si disfece in polvere. ”

– Notre-Dame de Paris, V. Hugo”

“It is the accursed inventions of this century that are ruining everything–artilleries, bombards, and, above all, printing, that other German pest. No more manuscripts, no more books! printing will kill bookselling. It is the end of the world that is drawing nigh.”

“Lend your ear then to this tutti of steeples; diffuse over the whole the buzz of half a million of human beings, the eternal murmur of the river, the infinite piping of the wind, the grave and distant quartet of the four forests placed like immense organs on the four hills of the horizon; soften down, as with a demi-tint, all that is too shrill and too harsh in the central mass of sound, and say if you know any thing in the world more rich, more gladdening, more dazzling than that tumult of bells; than that furnace of music; than those ten thousand brazen tones breathed all at once from flutes of stone three hundred feet high; than that city which is but one orchestra; than that symphony rushing and roaring like a tempest.”

“A priest and a philosopher are two different things”

“Ceci tuera cela”

“Flat ubi vult”

“Se per caso capiva che la sua infermità si tradisse per qualche apostrofe incoerente o per qualche domanda inintelligibile, la cosa passava per profondità presso alcuni, per imbecillità presso altri. In ambedue i casi l’onore della magistratura era salvo, perchè un giudice può essere benissimo profondo o imbecille a suo piacere, ma sordo no.”

“Los grandes acontecimientos tienen consecuencias incalculables”

“Se encontraba totalmente absorto en esa especie de contemplación estática en la que una autor ve surgir, una a una, todas sus ideas, por boca de los autores, entre el silencio de todo el auditorio”

“Oh, love! That is to be two, and yet one. A man and a woman joined, as into an angel; that is heaven!”

“I bear the dungeon within me; within me is winter, ice, despair; I have darkness in my soul.”

“in becoming malicious he only picked up the weapon with which he had been wounded. He”

“Die Wissenschaft muss mit glatten Wangen begonnen werden und nicht erst mit runzeligen, wenn man in ihr etwas erreichen will.”

“The two friends set out towards “Eve’s Apple.” It is unnecessary to mention that they had first gathered up the money, and that the archdeacon followed them.”

“S’il avait eu le Pérou dans sa poche, certainement il l’eût donné à la danseuse ; mais Gringoire n’avait pas le Pérou, et d’ailleurs l’Amérique n’était pas encore découverte.”

“Questo ucciderà quello. Il libro ucciderà l’edificio.
L’invenzione della stampa è il più grande avvenimento della storia. E’ la rivoluzione madre. E’ il completo rinnovarsi del modo di espressione dell’umanità, è il pensiero umano che si spoglia di una forma e ne assume un’altra, è il completo e definitivo mutamento di pelle di quel serpente simbolico che, da Adamo in poi, rappresenta l’intelligenza.
Sotto forma di stampa, il pensiero è più che mai imperituro. E’ volatile, inafferrabile, indistruttibile. Si fonde con l’aria. Al tempo dell’architettura, diveniva montagna e si impadroniva con forza di un secolo e di un luogo. Ora diviene stormo di uccelli, si sparpaglia ai quattro venti e occupa contemporaneamente tutti i punti dell’aria e dello spazio..
Da solido che era, diventa vivo. Passa dalla durata all’ immortalità. Si può distruggere una mole, ma come estirpare l’ubiquità? Venga pure un diluvio, e anche quando la montagna sarà sparita sotto i flutti da molto tempo, gli uccelli voleranno ancora; e basterà che solo un’arca galleggi alla superficie del cataclisma, ed essi vi poseranno, sopravvivranno con quella, con quella assisteranno al decrescere delle acque, e il nuovo mondo che emergerà da questo caos svegliandosi vedrà planare su di sé, alato e vivente, il pensiero del mondo sommerso.

Bisogna ammirare e sfogliare incessantemente il libro scritto dall’architettura, ma non bisogna negare la grandezza dell’edificio che la stampa erige a sua volta.
Questo edificio è colossale. E’ il formicaio delle intelligenze. E’ l’alveare in cui tutte le immaginazioni, queste api dorate, arrivano con il loro miele. L’edificio ha mille piani. Sulle sue rampe si vedono sbucare qua e là delle caverne tenebrose della scienza intrecciantisi nelle sue viscere. Per tutta la sua superficie l’arte fa lussureggiare davanti allo sguardo arabeschi, rosoni, merletti. La stampa, questa macchina gigante che pompa senza tregua tutta la linfa intellettuale della società, vomita incessantemente nuovi materiali per l’opera sua. Tutto il genere umano è sull’ impalcatura. Ogni spirito è muratore. Il più umile tura il suo buco o posa la sua pietra. Certo, è anche questa una costruzione che cresce e si ammucchia in spirali senza fine, anche qui c’è confusione di lingue, attività incessante, lavoro infaticabile, concorso accanito dell’umanità intera, rifugio promesso all’ intelligenza contro un nuovo diluvio, contro un’invasione di barbari. E’ la seconda torre di Babele del genere umano.”

– Notre-Dame de Paris, V. Hugo”

“Want de liefde is als een boom, die vanzelf groeit, zijn wortels diep uit doet lopen in heel ons wezen en die blijft uitlopen ook als het hart verbrijzeld is.”

“If he had had Peru in his pocket he would certainly have given it to the dancer, but Gringoire had no Peru there, and, besides, America was not yet discovered.”

“He therefore turned to mankind only with regret. His cathedral was enough for him. It was peopled with marble figures of kings, saints and bishops who at least did not laugh in his face and looked at him with only tranquillity and benevolence. The other statues, those of monsters and demons, had no hatred for him – he resembled them too closely for that. It was rather the rest of mankind that they jeered at. The saints were his friends and blessed him; the monsters were his friends and kept watch over him. He would sometimes spend whole hours crouched before one of the statues in solitary conversation with it. If anyone came upon him then he would run away like a lover surprised during a serenade.”

“Do you know what friendship is?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ replied the gypsy; ‘it is to be brother and sister; two souls which touch without mingling, two fingers on one hand.’
‘And love?’ pursued Gringoire.
‘Oh! love!’ said she, and her voice trembled, and her eye beamed. ‘That is to be two and to be but one. A man and a woman mingled into one angel. It is heaven.”

“A one-eyed man is much more incomplete than a blind man, for he knows what it is that’s lacking.”



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