"then turning to my love, I said,
'the dead are dancing with the dead,
the dust is whirling with the dust.'
but she- she heard the violin,
And left my side and entered in,
Love past the house of lust.
Then suddenly the tune went false,
the dancers wearied of the waltz..."
- Oscar Wilde
"the Harlot's House"Momentary lapse of reasons created by
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