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Joined: 3/7/2009 Posts: 26,605 Neurons: 78,993 Location: Inside Farlex computers
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 When grace is joined with wrinkles, it is adorable. There is an unspeakable dawn in happy old age. Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
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Joined: 1/6/2014 Posts: 449 Neurons: 523,102 Location: Schaerbeek, Brussels Capital Region, Belgium
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Long live life!
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Joined: 1/28/2015 Posts: 5,303 Neurons: 2,913,716 Location: Kolkata, Bengal, India
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Quotation of the Day
When grace is joined with wrinkles, it is adorable. There is an unspeakable dawn in happy old age.
Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
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Joined: 11/22/2017 Posts: 92 Neurons: 292,397 Location: Médéa, Medea, Algeria
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this is especially true with an acceptable state of health and an environment that cares for him (children and grandchildren)
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Joined: 11/22/2017 Posts: 92 Neurons: 292,397 Location: Médéa, Medea, Algeria
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draoubelkacem wrote:this is especially true with an acceptable state of health and an environment that cares for him (children and grandchildren)
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Joined: 3/26/2013 Posts: 2,701 Neurons: 203,481 Location: Minsk, Minskaya Voblasts', Belarus
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Daemon wrote:When grace is joined with wrinkles, it is adorable. There is an unspeakable dawn in happy old age. Victor Hugo (1802-1885) Yeah. Why the most important things in life are unspeakable? Is there purpose behind this specificity? Sorry for the last word, it's a lack of grace, I guess.
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Joined: 5/1/2017 Posts: 209 Neurons: 168,535 Location: Casablanca, Grand Casablanca, Morocco
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What a picturesque speech! Victor Hugo is one of those great men who can educate us to feel and see things that others just ignore or think they are not worthy of any credit.
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Joined: 9/22/2017 Posts: 72 Neurons: 194,219 Location: Camarma de Esteruelas, Madrid, Spain
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I agree with you Victor Hugo but I hope it takes its time before I get such wrinkles. :p
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Joined: 2/4/2014 Posts: 6,894 Neurons: 4,940,621 Location: Bogotá, Bogota D.C., Colombia
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Context from: Les Misérables by Victor Hugo Volume 5
Book Fifth
Chapter 2At each succeeding phase of improvement, which became more and more pronounced, the grandfather raved. He executed a multitude of mechanical actions full of joy; he ascended and descended the stairs, without knowing why. A pretty female neighbor was amazed one morning at receiving a big bouquet; it was M. Gillenormand who had sent it to her. The husband made a jealous scene. M. Gillenormand tried to draw Nicolette upon his knees. He called Marius, "M. le Baron." He shouted: "Long live the Republic!" Every moment, he kept asking the doctor: "Is he no longer in danger?" He gazed upon Marius with the eyes of a grandmother. He brooded over him while he ate. He no longer knew himself, he no longer rendered himself an account of himself. Marius was the master of the house, there was abdication in his joy, he was the grandson of his grandson. In the state of joy in which he then was, he was the most venerable of children. In his fear lest he might fatigue or annoy the convalescent, he stepped behind him to smile. He was content, joyous, delighted, charming, young. His white locks added a gentle majesty to the gay radiance of his visage. When grace is mingled with wrinkles, it is adorable. There is an indescribable aurora in beaming old age.As for Marius, as he allowed them to dress his wounds and care for him, he had but one fixed idea: Cosette. After the fever and delirium had left him, he did not again pronounce her name, and it might have been supposed that he no longer thought of her. He held his peace, precisely because his soul was there. Read more: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Les_Mis%C3%A9rables/Volume_5/Book_Fifth/Chapter_2
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