Your neck. I want to kiss it.

My soul, be satisfied with flowers, with fruit, with weeds even; but gather them in the one garden you may call your own.

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

The dream, alone, is of interest. What is life without a dream?

All my laurels you have riven away, and my roses; yet in spite of you, there is one crown I bear away with me... One thing without stain, unspotted from the world, in spite of doom mine own! And that is... my white plume.

Speak to me...be eloquent, be brilliant for me. Improvise! Rhapsodize!... I ask for cream and you give me milk and water... Please gather your dreams together into words. - Roxanne, Cyrano de Bergerac

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