in the glass beside the sink
my toothbrush
kisses yours
Having come across the above snippet in an old notebook, I was reminded of a definition of true love.
I couldn’t quite remember it, though, and it’s taken me nearly an hour to track it down; it wasn’t Shaw, as I had thought, but Somerset Maugham, in The Constant Wife.
Maugham’s works are presumably still in copyright, so not so easy to find on-line, and although I have the complete short stories and a couple of novels, I don’t have the plays. Finally, though, I have found the piece I was looking for.
The dialogue is between Constance and her mother, Mrs Culver:
Mrs C.: Are you in love with Bernard?
C.: To tell you the truth I haven’t quite made up my mind. How does one know if one’s in love?
Mrs C.: My dear, I only know one test. Could you use his toothbrush?
C.: No.
Mrs C.: Then you’re not in love with him.
don't confuse the narrator 
divine….many time many things have many meanings….
nice post….like it…
love all…
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Thanks!
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You’re a pink toothbrush, I’m a blue toothbrush
Have we met somewhere before?
You’re a pink toothbrush and I think toothbrush
That we met by the bathroom door.?
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Thank you (not) for reminding me of that gem.
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Moreover, the words almost fit the tune of Cwm Rhondda. Try it!
There’s no need to embarrass me with effusive thanks.
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Unmusical as I am, I am now very confused.
Cwm Rhondda is *not* Ar hyd y nos and you did *not* mean this:
In the glass beside the sink
my toothbrush kisses yours
as we lie together sleeping
all through the night;
Come the morn, the sun will wake us,
gladly shall we brush our teeth…
Ah well.
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I was referring to the words of your favourite song as quoted by the aptly named Mr Evil.
Etc.
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Yes, I know you were, I just got distracted.
It works particularly well on other lines. I can just imagine the few good male singers at the chapel doing the echo:
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