Descobri algures esta imagem abaixo que, como é frequente em imagens religiosas, mistura êxtase com dor, transcendente com carnal. Alguém poderia até argumentar que é só um exemplo de foot fetish ou leg fetish ou mesmo apenas uma overly attached girlfriend.
Não é, é um pormenor de uma das Cenas da Vida da Virgem pintadas para a Capela da Virgem na Igreja de São Luis em Poitou-Charentes La Rochelle por William-Adolphe Bouguereau, que viveu entre 1825 e 1905. É a cena 6, uma pietà. Como a net tem destas coisas, fui daí para uma outra majestosa pietà do mesmo pintor e do mesmo ano (1876), vendida num leilão da Christies por quase três milhões de dólares em 2010.
"It was the time of year, the time of day, for a small insistent sadness to pass into the texture of things."
"Crowds came to form a shield against their own dying. To become a crowd is to keep out of death. To break off from the crowd is to risk death as an individual, to risk dying alone. Crowds came for this reason above all others. They were there to be a crowd."
White Noise, Don DeLillo
"Guillam, taking a long chance, said he wasn't too good with ethics so why didn't they just go to bed together?"
Tinker Taylor Soldier Spy, John LeCarré
"The city is a device for measuring time."
"Years ago I used to think it was possible for a novelist to alter the inner life of the culture. Now bomb-makers and gunmen have taken that territory. They make raids on human consciousness. What writers used to do before we were all incorporated."
"What terrorists gain, novelists lose. The degree to which they influence mass consciousness is the extent of our decline as shapers of sensibility and thought. The danger they represent equals our own failure to be dangerous.
And the more clearly we see terror, the less impact we feel from art."
Mao II: A Novel, Don DeLillo
"In the process of articulating to yourself the things you see, you'll always pretty well make sense and learn to accept the world."
Canada, Richard Ford
"Touch me. Soft eyes. Soft soft soft hand. I am lonely here. O, touch me soon, now. What is that word known to all men? I am quiet here alone. Sad too. Touch , touch me."
Ulysses, James Joyce
"Time moves in one direction, memory in another. We are that strange species that constructs artifacts intendend to counter the natural flow of forgetting."
"Indeed, today, reliance on broadcasting is the very definition of a technologically backward society."
Distrust That Particular Flavor, William Gibson
"So I stand at the gate of the inferno of language, there's a barking dog and a ferryman waiting and a coin under my tongue for the fare."