if the devil were to enter this house, he would be allowed to do so. After all, what is there to fear in this house? There is always some one with us who is stronger than we.
there is a delicacy to Hugo's writing, by which i don't mean "a small and special thing made fine by its rarity", since if there's one thing hugo gives us it is length and volume (or volumes). But there's an indirectness that I'm really growing to appreciate, because it feels both natural to human thought to be something other than direct, while still having a clarity of meaning. If the devil were to enter this house! How do you describe the sacred by only admitting its opposite?