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My soul, be satisfied with flowers, with fruit, with weeds even but gather them in the one garden you may call your own.

Edmond Rostand

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Edmond Rostand
Age: 80 †
Born: 1868
Born: April 1
Died: 1948
Died: December 2
Author
Essayist
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Marseille
France
Edmond Eugène Alexis Rostand
Satisfied
Fruit
Garden
Flower
Weeds
Call
Gather
May
Weed
Soul
Flowers
Even
Independence

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Where lurk sweet echoes of the dear homevoices, Each note of which calls like a little sister, Those airs slow, slow ascending, as the smokewreaths Rise from the hearthstones of our native hamlets Cyrano Act 5.
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I loved but once, yet twice I lose my love!
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I would die at the stake rather than change a semi-colon!
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A bird who can gobble is qualified to teach crowing.
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I-I am going to be a storm-a flame- I need to fight whole armies alone I have ten hearts I have a hundred arms I feel too strong to war with mortals- BRING ME GIANTS!
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My wit is sharper then the finest mustache, and when I walk among men I make truths ring like spurs.
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Speak to me...be eloquent, be brilliant for me. Improvise! Rhapsodize!... I ask for cream and you give me milk and water... Please gather your dreams together into words. - Roxanne, Cyrano de Bergerac
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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!
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A kiss is a rosy dot placed on the i in loving.
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A kiss is a secret which takes the lips for the ear.
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To offend is my pleasure I love to be hated.
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How obvious it is now--the gift you gave him. All those letters, they were you... All those beautiful powerful words, they were you!.. The voice from the shadows, that was you... You always loved me! Roxanne
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To joke in the face of danger is the supreme politeness, a delicate refusal to cast oneself as a tragic hero.
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All my laurels you have riven away, and my roses yet in spite of you, there is one crown I bear away with me... One thing without stain, unspotted from the world, in spite of doom mine own! And that is... my white plume.
Edmond Rostand
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I am what I am because early in life I decided that I would please at least myself in all things.
Edmond Rostand
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A great nose may be an index Of a great soul
Edmond Rostand
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All our souls are written in our eyes.
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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.
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Stay awhile! 'Tis sweet,. . . The rare occasion, when our hearts can speak Our selves unseen, unseeing!
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A kiss, when all is said, what is it? An oath that's given closer than before A promise more precise the sealing of Confessions that till then were barely breathed A rosy dot placed on the i in loving.
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