Tick tock, tic tock, tick tock

"She philosophically noted dates as they came past in the revolution of the year (...) also her own birthday; and every other day individualized by incidents in which she had taken some share. She suddenly thought one afternoon, when looking in the glass at her fairness, that there was yet another date of greater importance to her than those; that of her own death, when all these charms would have disappeared; a day which lay sly and unseen among all the other days of the year, giving no sign or sound when she passed over it; but not the less surely there. When was it? Why did she not feel the chill of each yearly encounter with such a cold relation? (...) Of that day, doomed to be her terminus in time through all the ages, she did not know the place in month, week, season or year".

Thomas Hardy, Tess of the D'ubervilles

"À noite, em casa, fico nua na frente do espelho, estico um braço para o lado e balanço, e depois o outro.Como é que eu nunca havia visto essa pelanca frouxa, que cai do meu braço como uma carne morta? E as rugas do rosto? E os tornozelos grossos? E a flacidez que cobre o meu corpo como uma tripa nojenta? Eu não era assim. Meu Deus, é melhor morrer logo".

Rubem Fonseca, Pequenas Criaturas

Words of Advice

Parta, pegue um avião, reparta
Sonhar só não tá com nada
É uma festa na prisão.