Limelight Page #3

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One more or less|makes no difference.

Moreover, I've arrived at the age

where platonic friendship can be|sustained on the highest moral plane.

Now let me see, your mother was|a dressmaker and your father a lord?

The fourth son of a lord.|That's quite different.

How is it he married your mother?

She was|one of the family housemaids.

Sounds like a novelette.

- Did he have any money?|- No, the family cut him off.

So your sister's|the only one living?

Yes, and she's in South America.

Tell me, was it just ill health|that made you do what you did?

- That, and...|- And what?

The utter futility of everything.

I see it even in flowers,

hear it in music.

All life aimless,|without meaning.

What do you want a meaning for?

Life is a desire, not a meaning.

Desire is the theme of all life!

It makes a rose want to be a rose,|and want to grow like that.

And a rock want to contain itself|and remain like that.

What are you smiling about?

Your imitation|of a rose and a rock.

I can imitate anything.

Ever seen a Japanese tree?|They're lopsided, they grow this way.

Of course pansies grow this way.

The dark ones frown and go like that.

However, the meaning of anything

is merely other words|for the same thing.

After all, a rose is a rose.|Not bad, should be quoted.

Think how meaningless|life was a moment ago.

Now you have|a temporary husband and a home.

Here's your drinking water,|and in case of any emergencies,

the first door on the left,|the same on each floor.

Good night.

Spring is here!

Birds are calling

Skunks are crawling

Wagging their tails for love

Spring is here!

Whales are churning

Worms are squirming

Wagging their tails for love

Of which I sing

That makes us all bewitched?

That comes in Spring

That gives us all the itch?

Oh, it's love

It's love love love love

Pardon me,|but have you a fly swatter?

I beg your pardon.

If you beg around here,|I'll call the police.

I repeat, I beg your pardon.

I don't care what you've eaten.

I've eaten nothing.

Poor dear.|Here, get a sandwich.

- Sir, I demand an apology!|- I don't know you.

Who are your people?|Are you in the social register?

- My name happens to be Smith.|- Never heard of them.

That shows you're asinine.

I should have worn my overcoat.

You've interrupted me|in the middle of my sonnet.

In the middle of your what?

Not in the middle of my what,|the middle of my sonnet.

My ode to a worm.

Oh worm, why do you turn|into the earth from me?

'Tis Spring! Oh worm!

Lift up your head

whichever end that be|and smile at the sun

untwine your naked form|and with your tail, fling!

High the dirt in ecstasy!

'Tis Spring! 'Tis Spring!|'Tis Spring!

Ridiculous!|A worm smiling at the sun!

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