Mr. Magorium knew the deal!

(she hugs him)
M.Magorium: (in a quiet sigh) oh, Mahoney…
Mahoney: Don’t go.
M.Magorium: My darling
Mahoney: I’m not ready, I’m not ready for it to end.
M.Magorium: I’m sorry.
(Mahoney sits down a step)

When King Lear dies in Act Five do you know what William Shakespeare has written? He’s written, He Dies.
That's all, nothing more. No fan fare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words.
The culmination of the most influential work of the dramatic literature is, He Dies. It takes Shakespeare’s genius to come up with, he dies.
And yet every time I read those two words I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria.
And I know its only natural to be sad, but not because of the words he dies, but because of the life we saw prior to the words.
I’ve lived all five of my acts Mahoney and I am not asking you to be happy that I must go.
I’m only asking that you turn the page. Continue reading. And let the next story begin.
And if anyone ever asks what became of me you relay my life in all its wander, and it with a simple, and modest, he died.

Mahoney: I love you.
M.Magorium: I love you too.
(M.Magorium takes Mahoney by the hands and gets her up to her feet)
M.Magorium: (he sighs) Your life is an occasion…….rise to it.
(he kisses her forehead and walks away)
(Mahoney walks out)
(m.Magorium opens the paper plane case and throw the plane for the last time. it flies around the room turning it into the night, he grabs a chair, places it in the center of the room, and watches as the room changes, then sits down, and says: “Good-bye love”, smiling, the paper plane landing at his feet)