human
Oh, go on! he shouted fiercely.
gpt
You don't know nothing about the insides of music--that's only the outsides! Besides, what time does a bird sing by? That's music, ain't it?
human
And what do you know of art, Oaf? Don't you know that modern art is colored geometry?
gpt
And poetry? squeaked the Quotient, fiercely,
human
Don't poets have to count their feet to write poems?
gpt
Not modern poets, she said, with an icy authority that sent a hostile shiver up and down the multiplication tables.
human
They do not count anything--not even the cost.
gpt
Good for you, Avrillia!
human
Like leaves of the forest when summer is green Our beautiful Garden at sunset was seen; Like leaves of the forest when autumn is flown, You see it this morning all withered and strown.