"So if everything fell apart and was incinerated, I would still be here waiting for the reason you left."
" I won't leave then," I said.
He looked at me intensely, "Then remember what Rilke said."
I stared into his eyes, "What did he say?"
"Just as the creative artist is not allowed to choose, neither is he permitted to turn his back on anything: a single refusal, and he is cast out of the state of grace and becomes sinful all the way through.''
"Anything?" I asked.
"Anything, especially me, and us."
He was in my personal space now, running his hand down my arm and stopping at my hand, where he intertwined our fingers, "I prefer to run from danger." He replied with a wicked smile, "And I prefer the chase."