The Hunchback of Notre-Dame Quotes

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.

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.

There are plenty who regard a wall behind which something is happening as a very curious thing.

Breathe, hope

Love is like a tree: it grows by itself, roots itself deeply in our being and continues to flourish over a heart in ruin. The inexplicable fact is that the blinder it is, the more tenacious it is. It is never stronger than when it is completely 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.

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

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

By making himself a priest made himself a demon.

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

It is to be brother and sister; two souls which touch without mingling, two fingers on one hand.

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

Oh! Love! That is to be two and to be but one. A man and a woman mingled into one angel. It is heaven.

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

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.

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

Nothing makes a man so adventurous as an empty pocket.

Mothers are often fondest of the child which has caused them the greatest pain.

He reached for his pocket, and found there, only reality.

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.

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

If you know what my love for you is! It is fire; it is molten lead; it is a thousand daggers in my heart.

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.