Bert Harris:
Mmmm, Browning! Not really.
[Reading an inscription in a book of poems by Robert Browning]

Bert Harris:
"To Ann, This book's so suitable. Joe." You never told me. "No shade encroaching on the matchless mould, Of those two lips, which should be opening soft, In the pure profile; not as when she laughs, For that spoils all: but rather as if aloft, Yon hyacinth, she loves so, leaned its staff's, Burthen of honey-coloured buds to kiss, And capture 'twixt the lips apart for this." Now, honey, I ask you. - Is this the kind of hooey that guy Reynolds hands out?
Ann Roberts:
Why, I think it's lovely.
Bert Harris:
He may be a poet to you; but, he's just a peasant to me.
Riportata da il 05/03/2025 alle ore 07:45

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