Friend Is Sometimes A Word

That Is To Be Two And To Be But One. A Man And A Woman Mingled Into One Angel. It Is Heaven.

Promise To Give Me A Kiss On My Brow When I Am Dead.--i Shall Feel It.

Ma Vie Est Une énigme Dont Ton Nom Est Le Mot. (my Life Is An Enigma, Of Which Your Name Is The Word.)

At That Moment Of Love, A Moment When Passion Is Absolutely Silent Under Omnipotence Of Ecstasy, Marius, Pure Seraphic Marius, Would Have Been More Capable Of Visiting A Woman Of The Streets Than Of Raising Cosette’s Dress Above The Ankle. Once On A Moonlit Night, Cosette Stopped To Pick Up Something From The Ground, Her Dress Loosened And Revealed The Swelling Of Her Breasts. Marius Averted His Eyes.

As For The Author, He Is Profoundly Unaware Of What The Classical Or Romantic Genre Might Consist Of.... In Literature, As In Allthings, There Is Only The Good And The Bad, The Beautiful And The Ugly, The True And The False.