She said, Machines that mimic a mind! Oh! Suppose such a thing should happen one day! Yes! Yes! Imagine, gentlemen, how you will feel when someone invents a LOOM that writes poetry! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Her laughter overtook her. Her bare shoulders shook. Her curls swirled. Her breasts in her dress were jellies of mirth. She could not contain it. A POETICAL loom! An abacus of words. A rote poet. The poem I rote … HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Shelley and Byron were staring at her in the utmost horror. A hand risen from the grave through the floor of the villa could not have turned their
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