Why?
I'm sick, Joe.
Why do you love me?
When you're sick, people don't really love you.
They only feel sorry for you.
I'm not people.
I'm Joe Collins.
One guy.
I'm sorry.
I guess I'm selfsh.
Every time you walk out that door I'm afraid you're never coming back.
If I only knew where you came from, where you go, what you do.
Ruth, let's leave things the way they started.
I'm a guy who ran out of gas who saw an ordinary little farmhouse by the side of the road... who found the frst important thing in his life waiting for him in a wheelchair.
Let's keep it that way for just a little while longer.
Another day, maybe two, and...
I'll tell you anything you want to know.
I know what I want to know.
The rest doesn't matter.
If I weren't so sick, I could help you.
There are all kinds of sick people, Ruth.
Maybe we can help each other.
- I love you, Joe.
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