Arthur

“Aquela aterradora sessão fez com que perdesse a vontade de reencontrar os velhos amigos. Como fez bem, quinze anos antes, em deixar sua convivência! Como o detestam por tê-lo feito! Enquanto ele lutava pela sobrevivência no front ocidental, eles ficavam marinando em seu desconfortável conforto, protegidos pela placa de chumbo da amarga consciência de sua mediocridade.”
― Emmanuel Carrère, Limonov

“Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.”
― William Shakespeare, Macbeth

“He was like a worn small rock whelmed by the successive waves of his voice. With his body he seemed to feed that voice that, succubus like, had fleshed its teeth in him. And the congregation seemed to watch with its own eyes while the voice consumed him, until he was nothing and they were nothing and there was not even a voice but instead their hearts were speaking to one another in chanting measures beyond the need for words, so that when he came to rest again against the reading desk, his monkey face lifted and his whole attitude that of a serene, tortured crucifix that transcended its shabbiness and insignificance and made it of no moment, a long moaning expulsion of breath rose from them, and a woman's—woman's single soprano: "Yes, Jesus!”
― William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury

“O dia corria célere sobre suas cabeças, e as janelas esquálidas brilhavam e escurecia numa retrocessão espectral. Passou um carro, pela pista de areia lá fora, rosnando de esforço, e o som foi morrendo. Dilsey estava empertigada em seu banco, a mão pousada no joelho de Ben. Duas lágrimas desciam-lhe as faces murchas, entrando e saindo dasmil coruscações da imolação e da abnegação do tempo.”
― William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury