But do you love me? If Erik were good-looking, would you love me, Christine?
The opera ghost really existed
In Paris, our lives are one masked ball.
None will ever be a true Parisian who has not learned to wear a mask of gaiety over his sorrows and one of sadness, boredom, or indifference over his inward joy.
Holy angel, in Heaven blessed, My spirit longs with thee to rest
You must know that I am made of death, from head to foot, and it is a corpse who loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you!