I love you, but I should poorly serve the work to which I devote myself anew at the side of one to whom it were less than the greatest thing in the w… - Edmond Rostand

Oh! We have our pockets full,
we poets, of love-letters, writ to Chloes, Daphnes — creation of our noddle-heads. Our lady-loves, — phantasms of our brains. — Dream-fancies blown into soap-bubbles! Come! Take it, and change feigned love words into true; I breathed my sighs and moans haphazard-wise; Call all these wandering love-birds home to nest. You'll see that I was in these lettered lines, — Eloquent all the more, the less sincere! — Take it, and make an end!

And what is a kiss, specifically? A pledge properly sealed, a promise seasoned to taste, a vow stamped with the immediacy of a lip, a rosy circle drawn around the verb 'to love.' A kiss is a message too intimate for the ear, infinity captured in the bee's brief visit to a flower, secular communication with an aftertaste of heaven, the pulse rising from the heart to utter its name on a lover's lip: 'Forever.

- CHRISTIAN :
Je tuerais ton bonheur parce que je suis beau ?
C'est trop injuste !
- CYRANO :
Et moi, je mettrais au tombeau
Le tien parce que, grâce au hasard qui fait naître,
J'ai le don d'exprimer... ce que tu sens peut-être ?