How can it? O, how can Love's eye be true,
That is so vex'd with watching and with tears?
No marvel then, though I mistake my view;
The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.
I'll never let you see
The way my broken heart is hurting me.
I've got my pride and I know how to hide
All the sorrow and pain -
I'll do my crying in the rain.
— Why do you cry?
— You mean people?
— Yeah.
— I don't know. We just cry... you know, when it hurts.
— Pain causes it?
— No. It's different. It's when there's nothing wrong with you, but you hurt anyway. You get it?
— No.