Aleksandra

“O, whither hast thou led me, Egypt? See
How I convey my shame out of thine eyes
By looking back what I have left behind
'Stroyed in dishonour.

Cleopatra:
O my lord, my lord,
Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought
You would have followed.

Antony:
Egypt, thou knew'st too well
My heart was to thy rudder tied by th' strings,
And thou shouldst tow me after. O'er my spirit
Thy full supremacy thou knew'st, and that
Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods
Command me.

Cleopatra:
O, my pardon!

Antony:
Now I must
To the young man send humble treaties, dodge
And palter in the shifts of lowness, who
With half the bulk o' th' world played as I pleased,
Making and marring fortunes. You did know
How much you were my conqueror, and that
My sword, made weak by my affection, would
Obey it on all cause.

Cleopatra:
Pardon, pardon!

Antony:
Fall not a tear, I say; one of them rates
All that is won and lost. Give me a kiss.
Even this repays me.
We sent our schoolmaster; is 'a come back?
Love, I am full of lead. Some wine
Within there, and our viands! Fortune knows
We scorn her most when she offers blows.”
― William Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra

“Nekoliko stotina godina posle tog događaja uhvaćene su na obalama Kaspijskog mora dve kornjače na kojima su bile ispisane poruke. Poruka jedne žene i jednog čoveka koji su se voleli. Kornjače su još uvek išle zajedno i na njima su se mogle pročitati poruke zaljubljenih.
Muška poruka je glasila:

Ti si kao ona devojka koja nikad nije ustajala rano, pa kad se udala u susedno selo i prvi put morala rano ustati, ugledala slanu na poljima i rekla svekrvi: ovo u našem selu nema! Tako kao ona, i ti misliš da na svetu nema ljubavi, jer nikada nisi bila budna dovoljno rano da je sretneš, mada je ona svakog jutra tu na vreme...

Ženska poruka bila je kraća, od samo nekoliko reči:

Moj zavičaj je tišina, moja hrana ćutanje. Sedim u svome imenu kao veslač u čamcu. Ne mogu da zaspim koliko te mrzim.”
― Milorad Pavić

“The first coffee of the morning is never, ever, ready quickly enough. You die before it’s ready and then your ghost pours the resurrection potion out of the moka pot.”
― Helen Oyeyemi, Boy, Snow, Bird

“It seems cruel," she said, "that after a while nothing matters... any more than these little things that used to be necessary and important to forgotten people, and now have to be guessed at under a magnifying glass and labelled: 'Use unknown.'"
"Yes, but meanwhile -"
"Ah, meanwhile -”
― Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence