“This last night we tear into each other, as if to wound, as if to find the key to everything before morning.”
“Aww, did we masturbate through the tears last night?”
“Because I think that's what love is- everything but children's love, anyway - loving the wounds we give each other, and that we can't help giving each other; you can't stay alive if you don't hurt people.”
“We are all the walking wounded in a world that is a war zone. Everything we love will be taken from us, everything, last of all life itself. Yet everywhere I look, I find great beauty in this battlefield, and grace and the promise of joy.”
“And do you agree that the mornings when we appreciated each other might have been better than the mornings we loved each other?”
“This was the door to both sustenance and sanity. And we were each other's key.”