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It was Gwynplaine’s laugh which created the laughter of others; yet he did not laugh himself. His face laughed; his thoughts did not. The extraordinary face which chance or a special and weird industry had fashioned for him, laughed alone. Gwynplaine had nothing to do with it. The outside did not depend on the interior. The laugh which he himself had not placed on his brow, on his eyelids, on his mouth, he could not remove. It had been stamped forever on his face.

— The Man Who Laughs, Victor Hugo

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