A kiss is a rosy dot placed on the "i" in loving.

I would die at the stake rather than change a semi-colon!

I sing, not to hear the echo repeat, a shade fainter, my song! I think of light and not of glory! Singing is my fashion of waging war and bearing witness. And if my song is the proudest of songs, it is that I sing clearly to make the day rise clear!

Stay awhile! 'Tis sweet,. . . The rare occasion, when our hearts can speak Our selves unseen, unseeing!

ROXANE: Live, for I love you! CYRANO: No, In fairy tales When to the ill-starred Prince the lady says 'I love you!' all his ugliness fades fast-- But I remain the same, up to the last! ROXANE: I have marred your life--I, I! CYRANO: You blessed my life! Never on me had rested woman's love. My mother even could not find me fair: I had no sister; and, when grown a man, I feared the mistress who would mock at me. But I have had your friendship--grace to you A woman's charm has passed across my path.

To joke in the face of danger is the supreme politeness, a delicate refusal to cast oneself as a tragic hero.

It is at night that faith in light is admirable.