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I am an honest girl, M. le Vicomte de Chagny, and I don't lock myself up in my dressing-room with men's voices.

Gaston Leroux

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Gaston Leroux
Age: 59 †
Born: 1868
Born: May 6
Died: 1927
Died: May 6
Journalist
Novelist
Playwright
Screenwriter
Writer
Paris
France
Gaston Louis Alfred Leroux
Dressings
Girl
Men
Dressing
Locks
Voices
Room
Rooms
Honest
Lock
Voice

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In Paris, our lives are one masked ball.
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She's singing to-night to bring the chandelier down!
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Everyone dies. I just choose the time and place for some of them!
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When a woman has seen me, as you have, she belongs to me. She loves me forever.
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There are times where excessive innocence seems so monstrous that it becomes hateful.
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The shadow had followed behind them, clinging to their steps and the two children little suspected its presence when they at last sat down, trustingly, under the mighty protection of Apollo, who, with a great bronze gesture, lifted his huge lyre to the heart of a crimson sky.
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All I wanted was to be loved for myself. (Erik)
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I am not really wicked. Love me, and you will see!
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None will ever be a true Parisian who has not learned to wear a mask of gaiety over his sorrows and one of sadness, boredom, or indifference over his inward joy.
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An author really ought to have nothing but flowers in the room where he works.
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...the girl with the tip-tilted nose, the forget-me-not eyes, the rose red cheeks and the lily-white neck and shoulders who gave the explanation in a trembling voice: “It’s the ghost!
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The opera ghost really existed
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Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair was as golden as the sun's rays, and her soul as clear and blue as her eyes. She wheedled her mother, was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock and her red shoes and her fiddle, but loved most of all, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music.
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A ghost who, on the same evening, carries off an opera-singer and steals twenty-thousand francs is a ghost who must have his hands very full!
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Tonight I gave you my soul, and I am dead. - Christine, from Gaston Leroux's: The Phantom of the Opera.
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why do you condemn a man whom you have never met, whom no one knows and about whom even you yourself know nothing?
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He stared dully at the desolate, cold road and the pale, dead night. Nothing was colder or more dead than his heart. He had loved an angel and now he despised a woman.
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If I am the phantom, it is because man's hatred has made me so. If I am to be saved it is because your love redeems me.
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He had a heart that could have held the entire empire of the world and, in the end, he had to content himself with a cellar.
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