A: The woman who allows the poet to write sets his soul ablaze.
B: Ah yes, that is until he stops appreciating her and treats her like a statistic, a number and the face of someone he once conquered. Not all writers, my friend, are delicate souls.
A: The poet is not a player. If he fools her with his words, there’s no heart to his poetry. But can a muse, who is an ocean, truly be fooled by a writer who is frightened even to wade her shallow waters? Can a muse fall for a poet who shivers before her terrible silence, and flees from her roaring waves?