STRANGER. Not yours? Then what is? Something that belongs to
others?

LADY. Is yours something that belongs to others too?

STRANGER. No. What I've experienced is my own, mine and no other's.
What I've read becomes mine, because I've broken it in two like
glass, melted it down, and from this substance blown new glass in
novel forms.

LADY. But I can never be yours.

STRANGER. I've become yours.

LADY. What have you got from me?

STRANGER. How can you ask me that?

LADY. All the same--I'm not sure that you think it, though I feel
you feel it--you wish me far away.

STRANGER. I must be a certain distance from you, if I'm to see you.
Now you're within the focus, and your image is unclear.

LADY. The nearer, the farther off!

STRANGER. Yes. When we part, we long for one another; and when we
meet again, we long to part.

LADY. Do you really think we love each other?