“I think,” he said at last, “that you are very clever, and clever people such as yourself often think there are answers to all questions. But alas, I was not clever in life, and am even less clever in death. I have no answer that would satisfy you. I believe there are some questions, like the whys and hows of love, that are ineffably beautiful because they have no answer. I was empty once, and your companionship has made me whole. I cannot explain why. Can you accept that?”
