22:46 

Kingsley Amis

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     The End

The mirror holds: small common objects fill
Its eye impatient, sore with keeping still.
     The book, the person stupefy,
     Merely because they fill its eye.

The mirror breaks, and fragments wheel and flare
– Before their mercury dissolves in air –
     To seize the person for one look,
     To catch one image of the book.

   

Dead Poets Society

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