": The voice in the garden is your own voice. : It is; and it is not. It is something greater than me: I am only a part of it. : The Voice does not tell me not to kill you. Yet I do not want you to die before me. No voice is needed to make me feel that. [throwing his arm round her shoulder with an expression of anguish]: Oh no: that is plain without any voice. There is something that holds us together, something that has no word — : Love. Love. Love. : That is too short a word for so long a thing."