In Paris, our lives are one masked ball.

Erik ! Erik! I saved your life! Remember!You were sentenced to death! But for me, you would be dead now!

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

We recognize the touch of the Opera ghost.

Are people so unhappy when they love?" "Yes, Christine, when they love and are not sure of being loved.

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!

The Opera ghost really existed. He was not, as was long believed, a creature of the imagination of the artists, the superstition of the managers, or a product of the absurd and impressionable brains of the young ladies of the ballet, their mothers, the box-keepers, the cloak-room attendants or the concierge. Yes, he existed in flesh and blood, although he assumed the complete appearance of a real phantom; that is to say, of a spectral shade.