I-i Am Going To Be A Storm-a

To Offend Is My Pleasure; I Love To Be Hated.

My Soul, Be Satisfied With Flowers, With Fruit, With Weeds Even; But Gather Them In The One Garden You May Call Your Own.

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

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.

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.