The dream, alone, is of interest. What is life without a dream?
And if kisses in these words could travel too, Madam, you'd read this letter with your lips.
She is a mortal danger without meaning to be one; she's exquisite without giving ita thought; shes a trap set by nature, a rose in which love lies in ambush! Anyone who has seen her smile has known perfection. She creates grace without movement and makes all divinity fit into her slightest gesture. And neither Venus in her shell, nor Diana striding in the great, blossoming forest, can compare to her when she goes through the streets of paris in her sedan chair.
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!
It is at night that faith in light is admirable.
I am what I am because early in life I decided that I would please at least myself in all things.
All our souls are written in our eyes.
I have a different idea of elegance. I don't dress like a fop, it's true, but my moral grooming is impeccable. I never appear in public with a soiled conscience, a tarnished honor, threadbare scruples, or an insult that I haven't washed away. I'm always immaculately clean, adorned with independence and frankness. I may not cut a stylish figure, but I hold my soul erect. 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.
Stay awhile! 'Tis sweet,. . . The rare occasion, when our hearts can speak Our selves unseen, unseeing!
A kiss is a secret which takes the lips for the ear.
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.
Your name hangs in my heart like a bell's tongue.
A pessimist is a man who tells the truth prematurely.
My soul, be satisfied with flowers, with fruit, with weeds even; but gather them in the one garden you may call your own.
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!
To offend is my pleasure; I love to be hated.
A large nose is in fact the sign of an affable man, good, courteous, witty, liberal, courageous, such as I am.
Your neck. I want to kiss it.
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.
Take it, and turn to facts my fantasies.
A great nose may be an index Of a great soul
I would die at the stake rather than change a semi-colon!
A kiss is a rosy dot placed on the "i" in loving.
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
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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