“She was so beautiful all along.”
“She didn’t believe it, though. It never slipped in, or sank in, was never absorbed. An ointment. A linament. So, her beauty wasn’t skin deep.”
“You, an ugly mook, went vermouth, without gin, to be without sin. Beauty made no demand on you. It asked everything of her, and more. She sacrificed for it.”
“Don’t skirmish with me, Chuck.”
“Yes, but she loved me. She loved giving her beauty to me.”
“She had a beautiful smile. How could it have been beautiful if she was in so much pain?”
“How could her love have been love if she was in so much pain?
Lento, unloved, venerable, votary. Chuck wouldn’t let me cry, and I wouldn’t let him, either. We were in competition… Blue ball competition?
Spam of Human Affection 
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