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.

Know that it is a corpse who loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you!...Look, I am not laughing now, crying, crying for you, Christine, who have torn off my mask and who therefore can never leave me again!...Oh, mad Christine, who wanted to see me!

He stared dully at the desolate, cold road and the pale, dead night. Nothing was colder or more dead than his heart. He had loved an angel and now he despised a woman.

I am an honest girl, M. le Vicomte de Chagny, and I don't lock myself up in my dressing-room with men's voices.

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!

Persons visited by the angel quiver with a thrill unknown to the rest of mankind

He had a heart that could have held the entire empire of the world; and, in the end, he had to content himself with a cellar.