And that’s the irony, Marge. I loved you. You may as well know it, Marge: I loved you. I don’t know… maybe it’s grotesque of me to say this now, so just write it on a piece of paper or something and put it in your purse for a rainy day. ‘Tom loves me.’ ‘Tom loves me.’
And if you die, I will hold your hand. I’ll hold your hand and the last thing you will ever see will be me because I love you.