Συρανό Δε Μπερζεράκ
1897
Cyrano de Bergerac has a poetic gift and a nose so magnificent it could cast its own shadow. He can win any duel with a sword or a sonnet, but he believes his grotesque appearance makes him unworthy of Roxane, his cousin and lifelong obsession. When the handsome but tongue-tied Christian arrives determined to win Roxane's heart, Cyrano makes the ultimate sacrifice: he ghostwrites the love letters that bind them together, pouring his soul into words he can never speak aloud. What follows is a devastating triangle of love, honor, and self-deception that builds to one of literature's most heart-wrenching revelations. The play crackles with wit, swordplay, and the kind of romantic despair that makes you want to weep in public. It is, at its core, about the pain of loving someone you believe you cannot have and the strange nobility of that surrender. This is a tragedy disguised as a comedy, a love story where the lover's greatest act is his silence.
Editions
X-Ray
“A kiss is a secret which takes the lips for the ear.””
— Edmond Rostand
“A great nose may be an indexOf a great soul””
— Edmond Rostand
“My heart always timidly hides itself behind my mind. I set out to bring down stars from the sky, then, for fear of ridicule, I stop and pick little flowers of eloquence.””
— Edmond Rostand
“All our souls are written in our eyes.””
— Edmond Rostand
“I have a different idea of elegance. I don't dress like a fop, it's true, but my moral grooming is impeccable. I never appear in public with a soiled conscience, a tarnished honor, threadbare scruples, or an insult that I haven't washed away. I'm always immaculately clean, adorned with independence and frankness. I may not cut a stylish figure, but I hold my soul erect. I wear my deeds as ribbons, my wit is sharper then the finest mustache, and when I walk among men I make truths ring like spurs.””
— Edmond Rostand
“And what is a kiss, specifically? A pledge properly sealed, a promise seasoned to taste, a vow stamped with the immediacy of a lip, a rosy circle drawn around the verb 'to love.' A kiss is a message too intimate for the ear, infinity captured in the bee's brief visit to a flower, secular communication with an aftertaste of heaven, the pulse rising from the heart to utter its name on a lover's lip: 'Forever.””
— Edmond Rostand
“I-I am going to be a storm-a flame-I need to fight whole armies alone;I have ten hearts; I have a hundred arms;I feel too strong to war with mortals-BRING ME GIANTS!””
— Edmond Rostand
“...But...to sing,to dream, to smile, to walk, to be alone, be free,with a voice that stirs and an eye that still can see!To cock your hat to one side, when you pleaseat a yes, a no, to fight, or- make poetry!To work without a thought of fame or fortune,on that journey, that you dream of, to the moon!Never to write a line that's not your own...””
— Edmond Rostand
“My soul, be satisfied with flowers,With fruit, with weeds even; but gather themIn the one garden you may call your own.””
— Edmond Rostand
