A great nose may be an index Of a great soul

— Edmond Rostand

A kiss is a secret which takes the lips for the ear.

— Edmond Rostand

A kiss! When all is said, what is a kiss? An oath of allegiance taken in closer proximity, a promise more precise, a seal on a confession, a rose-red dot upon the letter i in loving; a secret which elects the mouth for ear; an instant of eternity murmuring like a bee; balmy communion with a flavor of flowers; a fashion of inhaling each other's hearts, and of tasting, on the brink of the lips, each other's soul!

— Edmond Rostand

A kiss, when all is told, what is it? An oath taken a little closer, a promise more exact. A wish that longs to be confirmed, a rosy circle drawn around the verb 'to love'. A kiss is a secret which takes the lips for the ear, a moment of infinity humming like a bee, a communion tasting of flowers, a way of breathing in a little of the heart and tasting a little of the soul with the edge of the lips!

— Edmond Rostand

... But...to sing, to dream, to smile, to walk, to be alone, be free, with a voice that stirs and an eye that still can see! To cock your hat to one side, when you plea seat a yes, a no, to fight, or- make poetry! To work without a thought of fame or fortune, on that journey, that you dream of, to the moon! Never to write a line that's not your own...

— Edmond Rostand

Cyrano: The leaves---Roxanne: 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 hereof mingling with the common dust---and yet They go down gracefully---a fall that seems Like flying!

— Edmond Rostand

I carry my adornments on my soul. I do not dress up like a popinjay;But inwardly, I keep my daintiness. I do not bear with me, by any chance, An insult not yet washed away- a conscience Yellow with purged bile- an honor frayed To rags, a set of scruples badly worn. I got caparisoned in gems unseen, Trailing white plumes of freedom, garlanded With my good name-no figure of a man, But a soul clothed in shining armor, hung With deeds for decorations, twirling- thus-A bristling wit, and swinging at my side Courage, and on the stones of this old town Making the sharp truth ring, like golden spurs!

— Edmond Rostand

I have a different idea of elegance. I don't dress like a fop, it's true, but my moral grooming is impeccable. Furthermore, I never appear in public with a soiled conscience, a tarnished honor, threadbare scruples, or an insult that I haven't washed away. Furthermore, I'm always immaculately clean, adorned with independence and frankness. Furthermore, I may not cut a stylish figure, but I hold my soul erect. Furthermore, I wear my deeds as ribbons, my wit is sharper then the finest mustache, and when I walk among men I make truths ring like spurs.

— Edmond Rostand

I know that in the end you'll overwhelm me, but I'll still fight you as long as there's a breath in my body... Yes, you've robbed me of everything: the laurels of glory, the roses of love! But there's one thing you can't take away from me. When I go to meet God this evening, and doff my hat before the lofty gates, my salute will sweep the blue threshold of heaven, because I'll still have one thing intact, without a stain, something that I'll take with me in spite of you: My white plume.

— Edmond Rostand

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.

— Edmond Rostand