If you love someone, you don't do that even if you hate them. You understand that I don't hate her -- I hate what she's become. I hate the illness.

Wouldn't it be better if you put her... someplace.

You mean an institution? A madhouse?

No, I didn't mean it like --

[suddenly angry]

People always call a madhouse "someplace", don't they? "Put her in someplace."

I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound so uncaring.

What do you know about caring? Have you ever seen the inside of one of those places? The laughing, and the tears, and the cruel eyes studying you? My mother there? Oh, but she's harmless! She's as harmless as one of those stuffed birds!

I am sorry. I only felt... it seems she's hurting you. I tried to mean well.

People always mean well! They cluck their thick tongues, and shake their heads and suggest, oh, so very delicately! Of course, I've suggested it myself. But I hate to even think about it. She needs me. It-it's not as if she were a maniac -- a raving thing. She just goes a little mad sometimes. We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't you.

Yes. Sometimes just one time can be enough. Thank you.

Thank you, Norman.

Norman.