Lista de Epifanias IV (*)

All art is quite useless.

Oscar Wilde, Prefácio a The Picture of Dorian Gray
(Só para que conste.)

(*) Contributo - em citações que não sei se me mudaram a vida, mas não me saem da cabeça - para a discussão do momento.

Lista de Epifanias III (*)

‘I see a ring,’ said Bernard, ‘hanging above me. It quivers and hangs in a loop of light.’

‘I see a slab of pale yellow,’ said Susan, ‘spreading away until it meets a purple stripe.’

‘I hear a sound,’ said Rhoda, ‘cheep, chirp; cheep chirp; going up and down.’

‘I see a globe,’ said Neville, ‘hanging down in a drop against the enormous flanks of some hill.’

‘I see a crimson tassel,’ said Jinny, ‘twisted with gold threads.’

‘I hear something stamping,’ said Louis. ‘A great beast’s foot is chained. It stamps, and stamps, and stamps.’

Virginia Woolf, The Waves

(O melhor livro de todo o sempre, by the way, para qualquer pessoa de bom gosto)

(*) Contributo - em citações que não sei se me mudaram a vida, mas não me saem da cabeça - para a discussão do momento.

Lista de Epifanias II (*)

Generous tears filled Gabriel’s eyes. He had never felt like that himself towards any woman, but he knew that such a feeling must be love. The tears gathered more thickly in his eyes and in the partial darkness he imagined he saw the form of a young man standing under a dripping tree. Other forms were near. His soul had approached that region where dwell the vast hosts of the dead. He was conscious of, but could not apprehend, their wayward and flickering existence. His own identity was fading out into a grey impalpable world: the solid world itself, which these dead had one time reared and lived in, was dissolving and dwindling.

James Joyce, 'The Dead', Dubliners

(Porque Joyce é genial, mas não só no Ulysses)

(*) Contributo - em citações que não sei se me mudaram a vida, mas não me saem da cabeça - para a discussão do momento.

Maturidade?

E ao terceiro ano, acertei na data!
Parabéns ao Quid (e aos irmãos gémeos).

Lista de Epifanias (*)

He knew that Ursula was referred back to him. He knew his life rested with her. But he would rather not live than accept the love she proffered. The old way of love seemed a dreadful bondage, a sort of conscription. What it was in him he did not know, but the thought of love, marriage, and children, and a life lived together, in the horrible privacy of domestic and connubial satisfaction, was repulsive. He wanted something clearer, more open, cooler, as it were. The hot narrow intimacy between man and wife was abhorrent. The way they shut their doors, these married people, and shut themselves in to their own exclusive alliance with each other, even in love, disgusted him. It was a whole community of mistrustful couples insulated in private houses or private rooms, always in couples, and no further life, no further immediate, no disinterested relationship admitted: a kaleidoscope of couples, disjoined, separatist, meaningless entities of married couples. True, he hated promiscuity even worse than marriage, and a liaison was only another kind of coupling, reactionary from the legal marriage. Reaction was a greater bore than action.

D.H. Lawrence, Women in Love

(*) Contributo - em citações que não sei se me mudaram a vida, mas não me saem da cabeça - para a discussão do momento. Presumo que se possa considerar uma lista.