Then I made her understand that, where she was concerned, I was only a poor dog, ready to die for her. But that she could marry the young man she pleased because she had cried...

If Erik existed and lived life in despair,We wish him to know we are here and we care.

… My mother, daroga, my poor, unhappy mother would never… let me kiss her… She used to run away… and throw me my mask!… Nor any other woman… ever, ever!… Ah, you can understand, my...

True beauty lies not upon gilded veneers,But found in the soul within.

Now Leroux, what think youOf this twist to the story?

You are to make up your mind whether it is to be God or man. Whether you are to be free or a slave. Whether it is to be progress or stagnation.As long as man...

Yet, beauty cannot be forgotten,Eternal Wisdom can never die …

Have they known scorn like youFive cellars down?

And that’s why people no longer care which words they use as long as they use lots of them.

Sublime wonders lie in store,I am shown a regal residence;a mighty kingdom, an empirewith more grandeur than before …

Monsieur, you must be mad!Box Five can never be hadFor money, love or the world …

An oppressive odor of decay now mingled with the stench of mold and seemed to clutch at the very breath in their lungs.

I beg you, help me, in angelic charity,Pray my efforts will reflect your mastery!

Music helps to forgetThis forsaken tomb,That is my abodeCellars downFar belowUnder the ground, …

A shadow is hard to seize by the throat and dash to the ground.

A mask you ask? Optional I find!Masks lend appeal of a mysterious kind.

Has father from HeavenSent the Angel to me?

There comes a stage at which a man would rather die cleanly by a bullet than by the unknown terror of the phantom in the forest.

If on thoughts of death we are fed,Thus, a coffin, became my bed.

No more can this Angel teach her,Yet, this guiding wing shall not forsake …

None of us can choose where we shall love…

He offered his love … she could not bother,She gives her love to the other! The other!

Whatever they may think and say about their “egoism”, the great majority nonetheless do nothing for their ego their whole life long: what they do is done for the phantom of their ego which has...

I am not forsaken! I’m no longer alone in the darkness! Before my eyes I see a thousand little devils lighting black candles along the path which leads toward the edge…the blindingly beautiful edge.

Pity that child who was born near Rouen,His only crime, to arrive deformed.

Weariness, which seeketh to get to the ultimate with one leap, with a death-leap; a poor ignorant weariness, unwilling even to will any longer: that created all Gods and backworlds.

Phantoms of thought and memory thinned and fled.

Stay away from the underground lake I implore,The Siren will see you are heard of no more.

He fills me with horror and I do not hate him. How can I hate him, Raoul? Think of Erik at my feet, in the house on the lake, underground. He accuses himself, he curses...

The Scorpion?The Grasshopper?Which way will she go?