Book: The Phantom Of The Opera. Page 2

Angel, the blessed sky,
My spirit longs for you to rest!

No, he's not a Ghost. He is a man of heaven and earth.

He does things that can't do the other, and knows things unknown to the world of the living.

Why tempt fate, Raoul? Why ask about things that I hide deep in my mind as a sin?

My lie was as hideous as the monster who inspired her.

I swear that you are the greatest man in the world, and if I ever flinch, looking at you, just because I think about the brilliance of your talent.

I was made for eternity, and the cause of all my misfortunes was the curiosity.

This soft, quiet night is full of moans. She seems to be mourning!

Some music is so difficult that absorbs anyone who touches her.

We have to get used to everything in life, even to eternity.

He was accused, cursed himself, begged me to forgive him. He confessed to the fraud. She said she loved me. He laid at my feet his huge, tragic love. He kidnapped me for love, but he respected me, cringed in front of me, he complained, crying.

You obviously love him, and your fear, your terror - all this love a special kind. Kind you do not admit. The love that inspires the willies when you think about it.

- Then he really loves you?
- Yes, enough to not stop at nothing, even murder.

You are right Raul, I'm sure my flight would kill him. But at least it's an equal game: there is a chance that he'll kill us.