My Wit Is Sharper Then The Finest

My Wit Is More Polished Than Your Mustache. The Truth Which I Speak Strikes More Sparks From Men's Hearts Than Your Spurs Do From The Cobblestones.

Your Neck. I Want To Kiss It.

No, In Fairy Tales When To The Ill-starred Prince The Lady Says 'i Love You!' All His Ugliness Fades Fast But I Remain The Same, Up To The Last!

All Our Souls Are Written In Our Eyes.

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.