Here is part of a conversation I had with E.S. in bed last night:
E.S.: Ow! You bumped my nose.
FAUSTUS: I’m sorry.
E.S.: You should be more careful. You could have knocked it off.
FAUSTUS: It’s lucky that I didn’t. I wouldn’t love you if you didn’t have a nose.
E.S.: Would you love me if I had cancer?
FAUSTUS: Well, then you’d just die, and I wouldn’t have to love you.
E.S.: No, cancer of the nose, and I had to have a nasectomy.
FAUSTUS: Oh. No, I wouldn’t love you if you had a nasectomy. Unless you got a really natural-looking prosthesis.
E.S.: What about the really creepy times when it, like, fell off on the subway?
FAUSTUS: Definitely I wouldn’t love you then.
FAUSTUS: But I’d love you again after you put it back on.
E.S.: I’m not sure I believe you.
FAUSTUS: You’ll never know until you remove your nose, will you?