“Hold on to those memories, Sam. The good and the bad.” He regarded the liquor in his glass. “Because someday, much sooner than you think, you may lose them from your life. One by one, they will go. The worse, when it happens, will be the memory of love. Love is warmth. It’s like Greek fire; no matter how much others try to dampen it, it only grows more intense. I want to remember love, Sam. I want to remember it forever. Because the thought of losing that, well, there’s nothing more terrifying. Not even in this decrepit old house.”
