It was an improbable romance. He was a country boy. She was from the city. She had the world at her feet, while he didn’t have two dimes to rub together.
I’ve a strange feeling with regard to you, as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave, I’m afraid that cord of communion would snap.
James Dean, 1955