It Is At Night That Faith In

Proclaim Your Pride And Bitterness Loudly To The World, But To Me Speak Softly, And Tell Me Simply That She Doesn't Love You.

After All, What Is A Kiss? A Vow Made At Closer Range, A More Precise Promise, A Confession That Contains Its Own Proof, A Seal Placed On A Pact That Has Already Been Signed; It's A Secret Told To The Mouth Rather Than To The Ear.

My Wit Is Sharper Then The Finest Mustache, And When I Walk Among Men I Make Truths Ring Like Spurs.

Roxane: His Face Is Like Yours, Burning With Spirit And Imagination. He Is Proud And Noble And Young And Fearless And Beautiful- Cyrano:(losing All His Colour.) Beautiful! Roxane: Yes. What's Wrong? Cyrano: With Me? Nothing. It's Only... Only... (displaying His Bandaged Hand, With A Little Smile.) This Fatal Wound.

And If Kisses In These Words Could Travel Too, Madam, You'd Read This Letter With Your Lips.