[Grantaire is acutely aware that Enjolras is still close and holding onto him but hasn't made a move to change that. He takes a deep, sobering breath]

You don't see yourself like others see you. You can't. It isn't possible. How do you tell Phoebus Apollo what it's like to view his radiance? And why would the god listen to what a mere mortal has to say? I cannot share in your belief, but you have enough to spill into ten men. Is it truly so surprising that your capacity sustains my lacking? Without it, there is nothing left of Grantaire but this bottle, and what a torturous mistress she is.