Noi abbiamo sempre in tasca lettere pronte per la divinità... Frutto della nostra fantasia, visto che apparteniamo a quella razza d'uomini che per am… - Edmond Rostand

Well when I write my book, and tell the tale of my adventures — all these little stars that shake out of my cloak — I must save those to use for asterisks!

Oui, je veux être aimé moi-même, ou pas du tout!

Rhymer, brawler, and musician,
Famed for his lunar expedition,
And the unnumbered duels he fought, — And lover also, — by interposition! — Here lies Hercule Savinien
De Cyrano de Bergerac,
Who was everything, yet was naught.
I cry you pardon, but I may not stay;
See, the moon-ray that comes to call me hence! I would not bid you mourn less faithfully
That good, brave Christian: I would only ask
That when my body shall be cold in clay
You wear those sable mourning weeds for two,
And mourn awhile for me, in mourning him.