“Cyrano: The leaves---Roxane: What color---Perfect Venetian red! Look at them fall.Cyrano: Yes---they know how to die. A little wayFrom the branch to the earth, a little fearOf mingling with the common dust---and yetThey go down gracefully---a fall that seemsLike flying!”

“They know how to die-a little way from the branch to the earth, a little fear of mingling with common dust and yet they go down gracefully-a fail that seems like flying!”

“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.”

“Nightfall. “What a strange word. ‘Night’ I get. But ‘fall’ is a gentle word. Autumn leaves fall, swirling with languid grace To carpet the earth with their dying blaze. Tears fall, like liquid diamonds Shimmering softly, before they melt away. Night doesn’t fall here. It comes slamming down.”

“There was a water-drop, it joined the sea,A speck of dust, it was fused with earth;what of your entering and leaving this world?A fly appeared, and disappeared.”

“But Holly, nobody’s life is filled with perfect little moments. And if it were, they wouldn’t be perfect little moments. They would just be normal. How would you ever know happiness if you never experienced downs?”