“Tell you what. After I'm dead, you talk. And I'll listen.”

“Tell me what you listen to, and I'll tell you who you are.”

“You'll come to my grave? To tell me your problems?"My problems?"Yes.'And you'll give me answers?"I'll give you what I can. Don't I always?"I picture his grave, on the hill, overlooking the pond, some little nine foot piece of earth where they will place him, cover him with dirt, put a stone on top. Maybe in a few weeks? Maybe in a few days? I see myself sitting there alone, arms across my knees, staring into space.It won't be the same, I say, not being able to hear you talk."Ah, talk . . . "He closes his eyes and smiles."Tell you what. After I'm dead, you talk. And I'll listen.”

“I need to kiss you," he says again, this time a desperate plea. "Please, Sky. I'm scared that after I tell you what I'm about to tell you...I'll never get to kiss you again.”

“Love - why, I'll tell you what love is: it's you at 75 and her at 71, each of you listening for the other's step in the next room, each afraid that a sudden silence, a sudden cry, could mean a lifetime's talk is over.”

“Animal Man: 'Listen, just tell me one thing: am I REAL or what?'Grant Morrison: 'Of COURSE you're real! We wouldn't be here talking if you weren't real.'You existed long before I wrote about you and, if you're lucky, you'll still be young when I'm old or dead.'You're more real than I am.”