Janie, what is love?
Love is a flower, sir.
Hmm. Quite. And, Randy, what is hate?
That’s what I said.
It’s, er, a fire, sir.
Excellent. Brandy, define fear.
Fear is a report card, sir.
Ah. Hah-ha-ahem. Certainly. And—oh, are we to Byron?
Mm. Of course. Very well, then. Byron, do keep it shorter this time, won’t you?
If you please, what is anger?
Sir, anger is a falling star that blazes white, yellow, then red and drops from the sky in brilliant despair. It falls into my house, where it quavers, flickers, and stands still, with mere ashes surrounding its deathly glare. Sir.