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

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!

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.

Blood!...Blood!... That's a good thing! A ghost who bleeds is less dangerous!

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.

They played at hearts as other children might play at ball; only, as it was really their two hearts that they flung to and fro, they had to be very, very handy to catch them, each time, without hurting them.

Erik is not truly dead. He lives on within the souls of those who choose to listen to the music of the night.