Our thing progresses I call and you come through Blow all my friendships To sit in hell with you But we’re the greatest They’ll hang us in the Louvre Down the back, but who cares? Still the Louvre.
You, who have all the passion for life that I have not? You, who can love and hate with a violence impossible to me? Why you are as elemental as fire and wind and wild things... — Gone With the Wind
