What are you thinking, sir?


Arjuna

I am thinking that you, with this same lightness of touch and
sweetness, are weaving my days of exile into an immortal wreath,
to crown me when I return home.


Chitra

Home! But this love is not for a home!


Arjuna

Not for a home?


Chitra

No. Never talk of that. Take to your home what is abiding and
strong. Leave the little wild flower where it was born; leave it
beautifully to die at the day's end among all fading blossoms and
decaying leaves. Do not take it to your palace hall to fling it
on the stony floor which knows no pity for things that fade and
are forgotten.