John Malcolm Brinnin:
Where does it all come from? The words... from which spring do they pour?
Dylan Thomas:
Don't.
John Malcolm Brinnin:
No one's that mysterious.
Dylan Thomas:
We're having fun, John. Don't take it away.
John Malcolm Brinnin:
I'm not taking it away.
Dylan Thomas:
[yells]
Why do you have to ruin it? Label it?
John Malcolm Brinnin:
I'm sorry.
Dylan Thomas:
No, I'm sorry. I'm a horrible little imp who can't hold his friends or answer his liquor. Forgive me.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 09:33
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