Sublime Upon Sublime Scarcely Presents A Contrast,

Joy Is The Reflex Of Terror.

Genius Is A Promontory Jutting Out Into The Infinite.

God In His Harmony Has Equal Ends For Cedar That Resists And Reed That Bends; For Good It Is A Woman Sometimes Rules, Holds In Her Hand The Power, And Manners, Schools, And Laws, And Mind; Succeeding Master Proud, With Gentle Voice And Smiles She Leads The Crowd, The Somber Human Troop.

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.

Spira, Spera. (breathe, Hope)