[he's about as tense as she is, his teeth gritted together tightly]

You are-- you are a good person. . . I don't understand it, but I admire it, because I cannot be even one-tenth of the person you are.

But how many times. . . how many times will I have to watch you die while we're here? How many times will I have to hold your cold hand as your life painfully returns?

How many times will I stand helplessly by as you die for your beliefs?