Dylan Thomas

— It's mine, isn't it? What you write.
— All my words and every heartbeat, they're all for you.

— What does it mean when she smiles?
— I don't know, never did.

— Come on, Catty.
— Have you got a poem for me?
— You still owe me for the last one.

War, see, it's useful. It gives the terror a focus.