Oh! to love a woman – to be a priest – to be hated – to love her with all the fury of your soul – to feel that you would give for the least of her smiles your blood, your vitals, your reputation, your salvation, immortality and eternity and the other – to regret that you are not a king, a genius, an emperor, an archangel. God, that you might place a greater slave beneath her feet – to clasp her day and night in your dreams, in your thoughts and to see her in love with the trappings of a soldier and have nothing for her but a priest’s dirty cassock, which will terrify and disgust her.
Victor Hugo, “The Hunchback of Notre-Dame”
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