Still the envelope, although open, was not empty. Papers could be seen in it. Cosette examined it. Cosette took out of the envelope what it contained, a quire of paper, each page of which was numbered and contained a few lines written in a rather pretty handwriting, thought Cosette, and very fine. THE reduction of the universe to a single being, the expansion of a single being even to God, this is love.
Love is the salutation of the angel to the stars.
A glimpse of a smile under a white crape hat with a lilac coronet is enough, for the soul to enter into the palace of dreams. God is behind all things, but all things hide God. Things are black, creatures are opaque. To love a being, is to render her transparent. Certain thoughts are prayers.