Edmond Rostand Quotes

A great nose may be an index
Of a great soul

Your neck. I want to kiss it.

Cyrano: The leaves-
Roxane: What color-Perfect Venetian red! Look at them fall.
Cyrano: Yes-they know how to die. A little way
From the branch to the earth, a little fear
Of mingling with the common dust-and yet
They go down gracefully-a fall that seems
Like flying!

Proclaim your pride and bitterness loudly to the world, but to me speak softly, and tell me simply that she doesn't love you.

My heart always timidly hides itself behind my mind. I set out to bring down stars from the sky, then, for fear of ridicule, I stop and pick little flowers of eloquence.

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