Inman: This doesn't come out right. If it were enough to stand, without the words.
Ada: It is, it is.
Inman: Look at the sky now. What color is it? Or the way a hawk flies. Or you wake up and your ribs are bruised thinking so hard on somebody. What do you call that?
Inman: You are all that keeps me from sliding into some dark place.
Ada: But how did I keep you? We barely knew each other. A few moments.
Inman: A thousand moments. They're like a bag of tiny diamonds glittering in a black heart. Don't matter if they're real or things I made up. The shape of your neck, that's real. You were always carrying a tray.
Ada: You wouldn't come inside.
Inman: I wouldn't come inside.
Ada: I had to carry a tray to come out and see you.
Inman: The way you felt when I pulled you to me. That kiss- which I kissed again everyday of my walking.
Ada: Everyday of my waiting...