Roxane: His face is like yours, burning with spirit and imagination. He is proud and noble and young and fearless and beautiful- Cyrano:(losing all his colour.) Beautiful! Roxane: Yes. What's wrong? Cyrano: With me? Nothing. It's only... only... (Displaying his bandaged hand, with a little smile.) This fatal wound.

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!

I-I am going to be a storm-a flame- I need to fight whole armies alone; I have ten hearts; I have a hundred arms; I feel too strong to war with mortals- BRING ME GIANTS!

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

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

Your neck. I want to kiss it.

A large nose is in fact the sign of an affable man, good, courteous, witty, liberal, courageous, such as I am.