Les Miserables

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Carleton, 1884

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Page 96 - The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves — say rather, loved in spite of ourselves; this conviction the blind have.
Page 108 - Combien je regrette Mon bras si dodu, Ma jambe bien faite, Et le temps perdu!
Page 11 - Reille is there with Jerome Bonaparte; the right-hand lower point is La Belle Alliance, Napoleon is there. A little below the point where the cross of the A meets and cuts the right stroke, is La Haie Sainte. At the middle of this cross is the precise point where the final battle- word was spoken. There the lion is placed, the involuntary symbol of the supreme heroism of the Imperial Guard.
Page 182 - Where are you going? where are you going? where are you going, bandit?
Page 15 - To follow my example, answered Wellington. To Clinton he said laconically: Hold this spot to the last man. The day was clearly going badly. Wellington cried to his old companions of Talavera, Vittoria, and Salamanca: Boys ! We must not be beat; what would they say of us in England ! About four o'clock the English line staggered backward.
Page 82 - Far as the eye could reach there was nothing to be seen but...
Page 175 - But, absorbed in a multitude of interior combinations, he paid no attention to it. ' To tell the truth, he had not heard. He arose and began to walk from the window to the door, and from the door to the window, growing calmer and calmer. With calmness Cosette, his single engrossing care, returned to his thoughts.
Page 63 - Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees.
Page 21 - The second rank pushed in the first, the third pushed in the second; the horses reared, threw themselves over, fell upon their backs, and struggled with their feet in the air, piling up and overturning their riders; no power to retreat. The whole column was nothing but a projectile.
Page 28 - In the gathering night, on a field near Genappe, Bernard and Bertrand seized by a flap of his coat and stopped a haggard, thoughtful, gloomy man, who, dragged thus far by the current of the rout, had dismounted, passed the bridle of his horse under his arm, and, with bewildered eye, was returning alone toward Waterloo. It was Napoleon endeavoring to advance again, mighty somnambulist of a vanished dream.

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