Maria Maria

“Dorian, Dorian," she cried, "before I knew you, acting was the one reality of my life. It was only in the theatre that I lived. I thought that it was all true. I was Rosalind one night and Portia the other. The joy of Beatrice was my joy, and the sorrows of Cordelia were mine also. I believed in everything. The common people who acted with me seemed to me to be godlike. The painted scenes were my world. I knew nothing but shadows, and I thought them real. You came—oh, my beautiful love!— and you freed my soul from prison. You taught me what reality really is. To-night, for the first time in my life, I saw through the hollowness, the sham, the silliness of the empty pageant in which I had always played. To-night, for the first time, I became conscious that the Romeo was hideous, and old, and painted, that the moonlight in the orchard was false, that the scenery was vulgar, and that the words I had to speak were unreal, were not my words, were not what I wanted to say. You had brought me something higher, something of which all art is but a reflection.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

“But do let us go. Dorian, you must not stay here any longer. It is not good for one's morals to see bad acting.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

“A morte conhece tudo a nosso respeito, e talvez por isso seja triste. Se é certo que nunca sorri, é só porque lhe faltam os lábios, e esta lição anatômica nos diz que, ao contrário do que os vivos julgam, o sorriso não é uma questão de dentes.”
― José Saramago, Death with Interruptions

“Ele me afogou na água verde debaixo da ponte. Fizeram um violino do meu esterno. Fizeram cravelhas dos meus dedos. No inverno, eu me deito sob o gelo e o céu estava cinza e lembrava vidro.”
― Caitlín R. Kiernan, The Drowning Girl