[That stings. Beckett makes a faint starting-engine noise in the back of his throat. An angry starting engine. The power balance is supposed to be one way in this conversation.]

That, my dear, is where you miss the point of this exercise. I may not be permanently inclined to voice these feelings, but let me assure you, in some form, they are always there. Nothing has been really changed in me, beyond the degree to which I desire to deny my nature.