Kraig. It would be bad at any price.
Caren [shaking his finger childishly]. Tut ... tut! We're fair here ... fair. There ain't no flowers ... he ... he ... he ... and there ain't no song [he chuckles], but....
Kraig [with intense passion, pacing to and fro, and never pausing, while he speaks very rapidly]. If only the living could have what is spent on the dead. All the waste ... the hateful waste. Flowers wilting in dead hands. Stones weighing down dead hearts. While living bodies famish and living eyes burn for the sight of beauty. Oh, I wonder the dead don't scream out at our madness. I wonder the graves don't burst with the pain of it all.
Caren. Have they shut me up with a maniac? Have you gone stark out of your mind?
[There is a loud knocking on the door, to the right.]
Caren [opens it a crack and peeps out cautiously]. What do you want?
Voice. Let me in.
Caren. Get away.
Voice [piteously, clamoring]. Let me look once ... just once.
Caren [harshly]. Got a pass?