human
And ever listens in the ceaseless din, Waiting for him, her lover, who shall come, Whose singing lips shall boldly claim their own, And render sonant what in her was dumb, The splendour, and the madness, and the sin, Her dreams in iron and her thoughts of stone.
gpt
And are you dreaming of becoming the lyric mouth of the city, of giving utterance to all its yearnings, its 'dreams in iron and its thoughts of stone'?
human
No, replied Ernest, simply,
gpt
Will it deal with her?
human
Oh, no. She personally has nothing to do with it. At least not directly. It was the commotion of blood and--brain. The air--the change. I don't know what.
gpt
What will it be?
human
A play, a wonderful play. And its heroine will be a princess, a little princess, with a yellow veil.
gpt
What of the plot?
human
That I shall not tell you to-day. In fact, I shall not breathe a word to any one. It will take you all by surprise--and the public by storm.
gpt
So it will be playable?
human
If I am not very much mistaken, you will see it on Broadway within a year. And, he added graciously,
gpt
I will let you have two box-seats for the first night.
human
I hope you will finish it soon, Jack observed after a while.
gpt
You haven't done much of late.
human
A similar reflection was on my mind when you came yesterday. That accounts for the low spirits in which you found me.
gpt
Ah, indeed, Jack replied, measuring Ernest with a look of wonder.
human
But now your face is aglow. It seems that the blood rushes to your head swifter at the call of an idea than at the kiss of a girl.
gpt
Thank God! Ernest remarked with a sigh of relief.
human
Mighty forces within me are fashioning the limpid thought. Passion may grip us by the throat momentarily; upon our backs we may feel the lashes of desire and bathe our souls in flames of many hues; but the joy of activity is the ultimate passion.