It is A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, World

She: You've read what I wrote. What say you is the state of my mind?
He: The New York state of mind kind?

She: Be serious.
He: Your writing is cathartic. It is a form of therapy, whether you know it or not. Others compose, paint, dance, and so forth. All these emotional expressions help us manage the real and perceived absurdity of living, or the madness of life, if you will. I do it too.

She: My romance, or the lack of it, is pitiful. Sometimes I think I am going mad.
He: If being in love or thinking about being in love is not madness, then very few things are.

She: I have been in love, all too brief.
He: St. Augustine would say otherwise.

She: St. Augustine?
He: Better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.

She: Ah.
He: To have loved is preferred over living like the fool on the hill.

She: Hah! The Beatles.
He: Though this be madness, yet there is method in your ways. We use the ‘mad’ word a lot today. Anyway, stay the course. You are doing fine.

She: And I thought you are occupied elsewhere to talk with me.
He: You know where to find me. A parting word. Whoever he is, may he, when he sees your face in his heart, there is room for none. No other but you. Cool?

She: Cool.