The words (she was looking at the window) sounded as if they were floating like flowers on water out there, cut off from them all, as if no one had said them, but they had come into existence of themselves.

And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be

Are full of trees and changing leaves.

To the Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf

They were those that would have wept to step barefoot into reality

Large Red Man Reading, Wallace Stevens

(So,when kiss Spring comes
we'll kiss each kiss other on kiss the kiss
lips because tic clocks toc don't make
a toctic difference
to kisskiss you and
to kiss me)

9, e. e. cummings

Sua beleza à força de ser bela
Promete mais do que prazer
Promete um mundo mais inteiro e mais real

Sua beleza, Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen

I am a maid of constant sorrow