There Shall Be No Slavery Of The

Life Is The Flower For Which Love Is The Honey.

Yes, The Brutalities Of Progress Are Called Revolutions

A Joyous Little Creature, So Beautiful, It Was As If A Gate Of Heaven Opened As She Came In.

M. Myriel Had To Undergo The Fate Of Every Newcomer In A Little Town, Where There Are Many Mouths Which Talk, And Very Few Heads Which Think.

Nobody Loves The Light Like The Blind Man.