Remando al viento1988

Lord Byron:
The rivers, lakes and ocean. The tides were in their grave. The moon their mistress, had expired before. The winds were withered in the stagnant air... why are you limping Polidori?

John Polidori:
I have twisted my ankle, my Lord.

Lord Byron:
Well, congratulations. At last you've managed to be like me. Although, in precisely the way I would least liker to be like Lord Byron. Vanity leads men to imitate other men, and poetry to imitate itself. Do you know what the finest poem would be? It would be the poem that gave life to matter, by force of imagination alone.

Mary Shelley:
It would be horrible!

Percy Bysshe Shelley:
Do you know that the best our scientists can do, is to make a dead worm wriggle in a glass jar.

Claire Clairmont:
And what does our doctor think about all this?

John Polidori:
That the imagination only creates things that are dead, although they may sometimes be beautiful. And that science only discovers new ways of killing.

Claire Clairmont:
Good heavens, my Lord! Where did you find your bedside doctor?

Lord Byron:
Queen of England recommended him to me.

John Polidori:
My dramatic works had a certain curative effect on her, but my medical prescriptions made her vomit. [laughing]