Eventually something you love is going to be taken away. And then you will fall to the floor crying. And then, however much later, it is finally happening to you: you’re falling to the floor crying thinking, “I am falling to the floor crying,” but there’s an element of the ridiculous to it — you knew it would happen and, even worse, while you’re on the floor crying you look at the place where the wall meets the floor and you realize you didn’t paint it very well.

If you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand.

Who am I? I'm just a writer. I write things down. I walk through your dreams and invent the future. Sure, I sink the boat of love, but that comes later. And yes, I swallow glass, but that comes later.

Actually, you said Love, for you, is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion. It’s terrifying. No one will ever want to sleep with you.

I crawled out the window and ran into the woods.I had to make up all the words myself. The waythey taste, the way they sound in the air. I passedthrough the narrow gate, stumbled in, stumbledaround for awhile, and stumbled back out. I madethis place for you. A place for you to love me.If this isn't the kingdom then I don't know what is.

This is where the evening splits in half, Henry, love or death. Grab an end, pull hard, and make a wish.

Here we are, at the place where I get to beg for it. Where I get to say ‘Please, for just one night, will you lay down next to me? We can leave our clothes on, we can stay all buttoned up?’ But we both know how it goes – I say I want you inside me and you hold my head underwater. I say I want you inside me and you split me open with a knife.

There is an empty space next to you in the backseat of the station wagon. Make it the shape of everything you need. Now say hello.

I will come back from the dead for you.