479 She dealt her pretty words like Blades— How glittering they shone— And every One unbared a Nerve Or wantoned with a Bone— She never deemed—she hurt— That—is not Steel`s Affair— A vulgar grimace in the Flesh— How ill the Creatures bear— To Ache is human—not polite— The Film upon the eye Mortality`s old Custom— Just locking up—to Die.SourceThe script ran 0.002 seconds.
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