Brian Selznick · 525 pages
Rating: (141.9K votes)
“I address you all tonight for who you truly are: wizards, mermaids, travelers, adventurers, and magicians. You are the true dreamers.”
“Maybe we are all cabinets of wonders.”
“I like to imagine that the world is one big machine. You know, machines never have any extra parts. They have the exact number and type of parts they need. So I figure if the entire world is a big machine, I have to be here for some reason. And that means you have to be here for some reason, too.”
“Time can play all sorts of tricks on you. In the blink of an eye, babies appear in carriages, coffins disappear into the ground, wars are won and lost, and children transform, like butterflies, into adults.”
“If you've ever wondered where your dreams come from when you go to sleep at night, just look around. This is where they are made. ”
“Maybe that's why a broken machine always makes me a little sad, because it isn't able to do what it was meant to do...Maybe it's the same with people," Hugo continued. "If you lose your purpose...it's like your broken.”
“As I look out at all of you gathered here, I want to say that I don't see a room full of Parisians in top hats and diamonds and silk dresses. I don't see bankers and housewives and store clerks. No. I address you all tonight as you truly are: wizards, mermaids, travelers, adventurers, and magicians. You are the true dreamers.”
“Even if all the clocks in the station break down, thought Hugo, time won't stop. Not even if you really want it to.
Like now.”
“I hope the snow covers everything so all the footsteps are silenced, and the whole city can be at peace. ”
“Sometimes I come up here at night...just to look at the city. I like to imagine that the world is one big machine. You know, machines never have any extra parts. They have the exact number and type of parts they need. So I figure if the entire world is a big machine, I have to be here for some reason. And that means you have to be here for some reason, too.”
“Fairy tales only happen in movies."
-George Melies
from The Invention of Hugo Cabret”
“In that moment, the machinery of the world lined up. Somewhere a clock struck midnight, and Hugo's future seemed to fall perfectly into place.”
“Like a mermaid rising from an ocean of paper, the girl emerged across the room.”
“Did you ever notice that all machines are made for some reason?" he asked Isabelle. "They are built to make you laugh, like the mouse here, or to tell the time, like clocks, or to fill you with wonder like the automaton. Maybe that's why a broken machine always makes me a little sad, because it isn't able to do what it was made to do." Isabelle picked up the mouse, wound it again, and set it down. "Maybe it's the same with people," Hugo continued. "If you lose your purpose...it's like you're broken.”
“She walked to the rear door and took out a bobby pin from her pocket. Hugo watched as she fiddled with the pin inside the lock until it clicked and the door opened. "How did you learn to do that?" asked Hugo. "Books," answered Isabelle.”
“The idea of going to the movies made Hugo remember something Father had once told him about going to the movies when he was just a boy, when the movies were new. Hugo's father had stepped into a dark room, and on a white screen he had seen a rocket fly right into the eye of the man in the moon. Father said he had never experienced anything like it. It had been like seeing his dreams in the middle of the day.”
“It looks like the whole city is made out of stars.”
“Time can play all sorts of tricks on you. In the blink of an eye, babies appear in carriages, coffins disappear into the ground, wars are won and lost, and children transform, like butterflies, into adults. That's what happened to me. Once upon a time, I was a boy named Hugo Cabret, and I desperately believed that a broken automaton would save my life. Now that my cocoon has fallen away and I have emerged as a magician named Professor Alcofrisbas, I can look back and see that I was right. The automaton my father discovered did save me. But now I have built a new automaton. I spent countless hours designing it. I made every gear myself, carefully cut every brass disk, and fashioned every bt of machinery with my own hands. When you wind it up, it can do something I'm sure no other automaton in the world can do. It can tel you the incredible story of Georges Melies, his wife, their goddaughter, and a beloved clock maker whose son grew up to be a magician. The complicated machinery inside my automaton can produce one-hundred and fifty-eight different pictures, and it can wrote, letter, by letter, an entire book, twenty-six thousand one hundred and fifty-nine words. These words.
THE END”
“My house had suddenly turned into a hospital ward.”
“Hugo learned that Prometheus had created humankind out of mud, and then stolen fire from the gods as a gift for the people he had made, so they could survive. So Prometheus was a thief.”
“How did you learn to do that?" asked Hugo. "Books," answered Isabelle.”
“Then you know Prometheus was rescued in the end. His chains were broken, and he was finally set free." The old man squinted one of his eyes and added, "How about that?”
“Did you ever notice that all machines are made for some reason? … They are built to make you laugh, like the mouse here, or to tell the time, like clocks, or to fill you with wonder like the automaton. Maybe that's why a broken machine always makes me a little sad, because it isn't able to do what it was meant to do. … Maybe it's the same with people: if you lose your purpose, it's like you're broken.”
“Hugo headed off toward the door to leave, but the bookstore was warm and quiet, and the teetering piles of books fascinated him.”
“Si dejas de tener un propósito en la vida es como... como si te rompieras.”
“Having an eye patch actually makes it easier to look through a camera - I don't have to close one eye like everyone else.”
“«Si alguna vez te has preguntado de dónde vienen los sueños que tienes por la noche, mira a tu alrededor y lo sabrás. Aquí es donde se hacen los sueños».”
“Si dejas de tener un propósito en la vida es como… como si te rompieras.”
“Tal vez sea esa la razón de que las máquinas rotas resulten tan tristes: ya no pueden cumplir con el propósito para el que fueron creadas.”
“Sometimes I come up here at night, even when I'm not fixing the clocks, just to look at the city. I like to imagine that the world is one big machine. You know, machines never have any extra parts. They have the exact number and type of parts they need. So I figure if the entire world is one big machine, I have to be here for some reason. And that means you have to be here for some reason, too.”
“You never live with a woman, you live inside of her, I overheard my father say to my brother once, and it was, indeed, as if, when peering into the mirror, you were blinking out through her thickly fringed eyes.”
“Were Wilde's panthers grateful or rebellious? Eventually, of course, one prefers a rebellious bedfellow. But it requires a degree of gratitude to get him into bed in the first place”
“Please. Don’t use the Lord’s name, unless you’re in prayer. It’s a hundred years in purgatory.”
“You're giving up the hunt for de Taillebourg?' Thomas asked. He had learned the priest's name from Robbie. 'No.' Robbie still had his head back as he stared at the magnificence of the transept's ceiling. 'I'll find him and then I'll gralloch the bastard.' Thomas did not know what gralloch meant, but decided the word was bad news for de Taillebourg.”
“The abbot had called her a sweet soul. This was true, but she was also massively irritating. She fussed over Rabalyn as if he was still three years old, and her conversation was absurdly repetitive. Every time he left the little cottage she would ask: ‘Are you going to be warm enough?’ If he voiced any concerns about life, schooling or future plans, she would say: ‘I don’t know about that. It’s enough to have food on the table today.’ Her days were spent cleaning other people’s sheets and clothes. In the evenings she would unravel discarded woollen garments and create balls of faded wool. Then she would knit scores of squares, which would later be fashioned into blankets. Some she sold. Others she gave away to the poorhouse. Aunt Athyla was never idle.”
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