Katharine Clifton: Promise me you'll come back for me.

      Almásy: I promise, I'll come back for you. I promise, I'll never leave you.

      Katharine Clifton: My darling. I'm waiting for you. How long is the day in the dark? Or a week? The fire is gone. And I'm cold, horribly cold. I really want to drag myself outside but then there'd be the sun. I'm afraid I'll waste the light on the paintings, not writing these words. We die. We die, we die rich with lovers and triumphs, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have... entered and swum up like rivers. Fears we have hidden in - like this wretched cave. I want all this marked on my body. Where the real country is. Not boundaries drawn on maps, names of powerful men. I know you'll come carry me out to the Palace of Winds. That's what I've wanted: to walk in such a place with you. With friends and an earth without maps. The lamp has gone out and I'm writing in the darkness.

     Almasy: You're wearing the thimble.

     Katharine Clifton: Of course, you idiot. I always wear it; I've always worn it; I've always loved you.

In love, there are no boundaries.