Take rather a coarse view of things in general. In the midst of this,
place a man and a woman, her and her ankles, tastefully arranged on a
slice of Italy, or the country about Pornic. Cut an opening across the
breast of each, until the soul becomes visible, but be very careful that
none of the body be lost during the operation. Pour into each breast as
much as it will hold of the new strong wine of love: and, for fear they
should take cold by exposure, cover them quickly up with a quantity of
obscure classical quotations, a few familiar allusions to an unknown
period of history, and a half-destroyed fresco by an early master,
varied every now and then with a reference to the fugues or toccatas of
a quite-forgotten composer.
If the poem be still intelligible, take a pen and remove carefully all
the necessary particles.