“A brick is a lot like love. I mean, I’m sure it is. It simply must be. However, I can’t think of how at the moment, but that’s natural, because I’m not Cupid. OK, here’s something: A brick has six sides, and love—wait, no, love only has five sides. Damn! A brick is red, and love—is transparent (visually it’s invisible, and truthfully it’s transparent). So color is out, shape is out—which leaves sound. A brick is silent, while love sounds like the hum of an electric generator. After a while, you may not hear it and you think it’s silent, but that’s only because you’re acclimated to it and have tuned it out.
”

“One brick is not a wall. Unless you’re an ant, and then it’s not only a wall, it’s a building—a building that has no doors, windows, or people in the form of managers that I’d like to smash in the face with a building (or a brick).
”

“Love has a shape, but no color. You’re probably wondering, “If it’s transparent, how do you know what shape it is?” Good question. Well, for one thing, I put it together, and for another, I’m currently wearing it like body armor (though to the casual observer, I appear naked).”

“A brick has eight edges and six sides. That’s nearly as many sides as a politician takes when discussing a binary issue.
”

“A brick could be used to let that special someone in your life know how much you love them. Instead of tossing out a careless I love you, try tossing a brick at them instead.
”

“My love has six sides, but it’s not a coffin. That’s just an optical illusion. Still, one day my love for you will be the death of me.”

“I have to put up a wall to put up with him. Not an invisible, metaphoric emotional wall, but a wall made of bricks. Those bricks could be used to keep out his bullshit. Bricks could transform him from friend into neighbor, and I think that’s pretty special.
”