Filipa Ferreira

“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

“Ainda não sabia o que era o amor, imaginava que podia ser sempre assim e que um tal sentimento se dedica sem nada pedir em troca.”
― Leo Tolstoy, A Felicidade Conjugal [com índice ativo]

“Já não compreendia agora o que então me havia parecido tão luminoso e tão verdadeiro: a felicidade de viver para outrem. Porquê para outrem quando nem para mim mesma queria viver?”
― Leo Tolstoy, A Felicidade Conjugal [com índice ativo]

“O que quero dizer é que, quando um homem pacientemente suporta o insuportável, ele está morto.”
― Charlotte Brontë, O professor