SEAN
                         So if I asked you about art you could 
                         give me the skinny on every art book 
                         ever written... Michelangelo? You 
                         know a lot about him I bet. Life's 
                         work, criticisms, political 
                         aspirations. But you couldn't tell 
                         me what it smells like in the Sistine 
                         Chapel. You've never stood there and 
                         looked up at that beautiful ceiling. 
                         And if I asked you about women I'm 
                         sure you could give me a syllabus of 
                         your personal favorites, and maybe 
                         you've been laid a few times too.
                         But you couldn't tell me how it feels 
                         to wake up next to a woman and be 
                         truly happy. If I asked you about 
                         war you could refer me to a bevy of 
                         fictional and non-fictional material, 
                         but you've never been in one. You've 
                         never held your best friend's head 
                         in your lap and watched him draw his 
                         last breath, looking to you for help. 
                         And if I asked you about love I'd 
                         get a sonnet, but you've never looked 
                         at a woman and been truly vulnerable. 
                         Known that someone could kill you 
                         with a look. That someone could rescue 
                         you from grief. That God had put an 
                         angel on Earth just for you.  And 
                         you wouldn't know how it felt to be 
                         her angel. To have the love be there 
                         for her forever. Through anything, 
                         through cancer. You wouldn't know 
                         about sleeping sitting up in a 
                         hospital room for two months holding 
                         her hand and not leaving because the 
                         doctors could see in your eyes that 
                         the term "visiting hours" didn't 
                         apply to you. And you wouldn't know 
                         about real loss, because that only 
                         occurs when you lose something you 
                         love more than yourself, and you've 
                         never dared to love anything that 
                         much. I look at you and I don't see 
                         an intelligent confident man, I don't 
                         see a peer, and I don't see my equal. 
                         I see a boy. Nobody could possibly 
                         understand you, right Will? Yet you 
                         presume to know so much about me 
                         because of a painting you saw.  You 
                         must know everything about me.  You're 
                         an orphan, right?

               Will nods quietly.

                                     SEAN
                         Do you think I would presume to know 
                         the first thing about who you are 
                         because I read "Oliver Twist?" And I 
                         don't buy the argument that you don't 
                         want to be here, because I think you 
                         like all the attention you're getting. 
                         Personally, I don't care. There's 
                         nothing you can tell me that I can't 
                         read somewhere else.  Unless we talk 
                         about your life. But you won't do 
                         that. Maybe you're afraid of what 
                         you might say.