All Our Souls Are Written

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.

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.

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.

Your Neck. I Want To Kiss It.