I love Victor Hugo. He tends to be remarkably quotable (no doubt by design), and I had to share this nugget with you:

"The smell of money attracts women like the scent of lilac; they're like all the other cats, they don't care whether they're killing mice or birds. Two months ago that wench was living virtuously in an attic, sewing metal eye-holes into corsets, sleeping on a truckle-bed and living happily with a flower-pot for company. Now she's a banker's doxy. It seems it happened last night, and when I met her this morning she was jubilant. And what's so disgusting is that she's just as pretty as ever. Not a sign of high finance on her face."

--Les Misérables

I can't say that I necessarily identify with the first part; but it's just so delectable and hit home, rather. Which is to say, I'm rather pleased to no longer be living in that attic (metaphorically speaking)...

...nor a paragon of virtue.