Fiddler's Green: but then, if I have to die, I have lived an interesting life... and a varied one... and I... take with me the memories of all the things that have moved me... told me that I was alive. The green play of sunlight through the birch leaves... a kiss... once.. on the cheek... from a friend.. I suppose.. I had always hoped that I would die quietly, on my own... or that I would die for a reason. It occurs to me now.. that only things that are truly unreasonable have reasons.. perhaps only the inconsequential need.. consequences.
Rose: Have you ever been in love? D: you might say that. Rose: Horrible, isn't it? D: in what way? Rose: It makes you vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up this whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life.... You give them a piece of you. They don't ask for it. They do something dumb one day like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase like "maybe we should just be friends" or "how very perceptive" turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. D: How picturesque. Rose: It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. Nothing should be able to do that. Especially not love. I hate love.