“For what reason would I lie to one I so love?”

“So what, I lied, I lied to me too. So what, I lied, I lied to me too. Hold out for the ones you know will love you. Hide out from the ones you know will love you. You, you too.Dark you can't come soon enough for me.”

“I would lie of course. I lied a lot and with good reason: to protect the truth—safeguard it like wearing fake gems to keep the real ones from getting stolen or cheapened by overuse. I guarded what truths I possessed because information was not a thing—it was colorless odorless shapeless and therefore indestructible. There was no way to retrieve or void it no way to halt its proliferation. Telling someone a secret was like storing plutonium inside a sandwich bag the information would inevitably outlive the friendship or love or trust in which you’d placed it. And then you would have given it away.”

“And I start to say that I’m not lying now, but I am, so that would be a lie.”

“If I were a tree, I would have no reason to love a human.”

“...So I stopped talking about it. There's no need to talk, because the truth of what one says lies in what one does.”