Nature has made a pebble and a female. The lapidary makes the diamond, and the lover makes the woman. – Victor Hugo
Sorrow is a fruit. God does not make it grow on limbs too weak to bear it. – Victor Hugo
Nature has made a pebble and a female. The lapidary makes the diamond, and the lover makes the woman. – Victor Hugo
Sorrow is a fruit. God does not make it grow on limbs too weak to bear it. – Victor Hugo
How did it happen that their lips came together? How does it happen that birds sing, that snow melts, that the rose unfolds, that the dawn whitens behind the stark shapes of trees on the quivering summit of the hill? A kiss, and all was said. – Victor Hugo