" He was reaching to light a cigarette with his last match when his hands began to tremble. The match went out, and he stood there holding the empty matchbook and the cigarette, staring at the vast expanse of trees at the end of the bright meadow.
“Harry, we have to love each other,” she said. “We’ll just have to love each other,” she said. "

― Raymond Carver , Will You Please Be Quiet, Please?