I jest cain't quit you.

From Richard Aleva in Commonweal:

Miraculously, you discover that you can take your heart out of your chest without dying. Well, perhaps you’re not really alive but you walk, talk, get business done, and nobody suspects that you are actually an ambulatory corpse. You keep your still throbbing heart in a little box in the attic. You go up to visit it from time to time. In the attic’s darkness you breathe on your heart, whisper tributes to it, caress it with your eyes. Of course you must keep your visits furtive and few lest anybody suspect how weird you are.

Quick and without looking. Is this a review of Brokeback Mountain or an essay on Doyle's fundraising?