“The Alchemists’ beliefs are my beliefs,” I say quickly. She arched an eyebrow. “Are they? I would hope your beliefs would be your beliefs.” I’d never thought about it that way before, but I suddenly hoped desperately that her words were true.”

“I fell, as they say. Into love. I practiced saying it, first to myself, in my head. I believed in it. I did. I thought love and I bought it completely. I was excited by my belief but was careful not to let this excitement influence or manipulate the belief in any way. The belief had to be pure. So I said it to her, I love you, and she said it back. And this was our contract. We treated the words seriously and respected that they came with implications.”

“No; he could be ruined again and again by hope, but he would never be capable of belief.”

“I would never die for my beliefs because I might be wrong.”

“Your beliefs about reality become your beliefs about yourself.”

“Hope and belief. I'd always wanted hope, but never believed that I could have such an adventure on my own. That I could own it. And love it. But it happened.”