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A Memory Of The Players In A Mirror At Midnight

Topics: classic

They mouth love's language. Gnash     The thirteen teeth     Your lean jaws grin with. Lash     Your itch and quailing, nude greed of the flesh.     Love's breath in you is stale, worded or sung,     As sour as cat's breath,     Harsh of tongue.     This grey that stares     Lies not, stark skin and bone.     Leave greasy lips their kissing. None     Will choose her what you see to mouth upon.     Dire hunger holds his hour.     Pluck forth your heart, saltblood, a fruit of tears.     Pluck and devour!

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"They mouth love's language. Gnash..."

This evocative piece by James Joyce, titled "A Memory Of The Players In A Mirror At Midnight", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...

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"The Text is taken from Percy's Reliques (1765), vol. i. p. 71, 'given from two MS. copies, transmitted from Scotland.' Herd had a very similar bal"

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"I would in that sweet bosom be     (O sweet it is ..."

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