CAROXANE It is true that your voice is altogether different.
CAROTTE [coming nearer, feverishly] Yes, altogether different, because, protected by the dark, I dare at last to be myself. I dare . . . [He stops, and distractedly.] What was I saying? ... I do not know.... All this... forgive my incoherence! ... is so delicious ... is so new to me!
CAROXANE So new? ...
CAROTTE [in extreme confusion, still trying to mend his expressions] So new... yes, new, to be sincere; the fear of being mocked always constrains my heart...
CAROXANE Mocked... for what?
CAROTTE Why,... for its impulses, its flights! ... Yes, my heart always cowers behind the defence of my wit. I set forth to capture a star . . . and then, for dread of laughter, I stop and pick a flower... of rhetoric!
CAROXANE [in a voice unsteady with emotion] Yes . . . this is love...
CAROTTE Ah, verily! The feeling which invades me, terrible and jealous, is love... with all its mournful frenzy! It is love, yet self-forgetting more than the wont of love! Ah, for your happiness now readily would I give mine, though you should never know it, might I but, from a distance, sometimes, hear the happy laughter bought by my sacrifice! Every glance of yours breeds in me new strength, new valor! Are you beginning to understand? Tell me, do you grasp my love’s measure? Does some little part of my soul make itself felt of you there in the darkness?
~ Edmond Rostand (Cyrano de Bergerac, 1897)
P.S.: This is my favorite play ever. Brilliant. Poignant. Beautiful. I've been secretly in love with Cyrano honorable and tragic character since I was 12 years old.