I know not how it falls on me - III

Meredith Frampton, Marguerite Kelsey

William Eggleston, Woman on Swing

Dona Fernanda

"Man who is a serious novel would like to hear from a woman who is a poem" (classified advertisement, New York Review of Books)

Exchange of Letters, Wendy Cope

My heart belongs to William Trevor

Would you like to fall in love with me?

For a moment he contemplated her, as one who had fallen out of heaven. He saw radiant joy in her face, he saw the flowers beat against her dress in blue waves. The bushes above them closed. He stepped quickly forward and kissed her.

A Room with a View, E. M. Forster

You could say my name like you knew my name

Light and beauty enveloped her. She had fallen onto a little open terrace, which was covered with violets from end to end.

'Courage!' cried her companion, now standing some six feet above. 'Courage and love.'

She did not answer. From her feet the ground sloped sharply into the view, and violets ran down in rivulets and streams and cataracts, irrigating the hillside with blue, eddying round the tree stems, collecting into pools in the hollows, covering the grass with spots of azure foam. But never again were they in such profusion; this terrace was the well-head, the primal source whence beauty gushed to water the earth.

Standing at its brink, like a swimmer who prepares, was the good man. But he was not the good man that she had expected, and he was alone.

A Room with a View, E. M. Forster

Love prays.

Love, Ralph Waldo Emerson

Does that other see the same star, the same melting cloud, read the same book, feel the same emotion, that now delight me?

Love, Ralph Waldo Emerson

[O meu vestido de cassa era de fios
que os meses desfiaram, e agora vejo-me
sempre de imagens vestida
pelo traço de giz na entretela.]

Canto do Efémero, Fiama Hasse Pais Brandão

Kate Bush

You must have seen her dancing in the sand

Kate Bush

Slow like honey, heavy with mood

Kate Bush

When there is always something there to remind me

Cada Poeta amou o meu ouvido,
e hoje, ao som do mar, dou-lhes a boca
da Amada à espera da metamorfose

O Canto de Nausicaa, Fiama Hasse Pais Brandão

A paixão de Jane Eyre

That young man was not really a poet, but surely he was a poem.

The Man Who Was Thursday, G. K. Chesterton

The sky above it was a naked blue, and higher still, over our heads, great eiderdowns of clouds sailed serenely by.

The Country Girls, Edna O'Brien

... A stone, a leaf, an unfound door; of a stone, a leaf, a door. And of all the forgotten faces.

Look Homeward, Angel, Thomas Wolfe

The love you gave ebb and flows

Mademoiselle bonsoir

T. S. Eliot, Wyndham Lewis

If there were water
And no rock
If there were rock
And also water
And water
A spring
A pool among the rock
If there were the sound of water only
Not the cicada
And dry grass singing
But sound of water over a rock
Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
But there is no water

The Waste Land, T. S. Eliot

Cheira a alfazema, gardénias, lírios,

neste jardim em que por momentos estaremos,

e os aromas embebem-se-nos no corpo

como se fôssemos cegos amantes que o ventre

impelisse uns para os outros.

Jardim de Aromas para Cegos, Fiama Hasse Pais Brandão

I read a book a day, like an apple
But I did not eat
And so the doctor came to me
He said a woman does not live
By the printed word
Forgive yourself and eat

A Down and Dusky Blonde, God Help the Girl

And she is waiting for the sign

João Cutileiro, Verão, 1972

My heart belongs to Paul Éluard

Abel Manta, Jogo de Damas, 1927


Victor Palla, Sem Título, década de 50

What's a girl to do?

Eduardo Harrington Sena, Alvo Atingido, 1954

Eduardo Harrington Sena, Altura, 1956

There the man sees the image clearly at last.
There the woman receives her lover into her heart
And weeps on his breast, though he never comes.

Poem With Rhythms, Wallace Stevens

My heart belongs to daddy

Ah lover and perfect equal,
I meant that you should discover me so by my faint indirections,
And I when I meet you mean to discover you by the like in you.

Among the Multitude, Walt Whitman

William Eggleston, Biloxi, Mississippi, 1974

Une femme c'est toi
Un amoureux c'est moi

Écrire Dessiner Inscrire, Paul Éluard