It was enough for her that she remembered.

The blue woman, linked and lacquered, at her window Did not desire that feathery argentines Should be cold silver, neither that frothy clouds Should foam, be f…

Red-in-red repetitions never going Away,a little rusty, a little rouged, A little roughened and ruder, a crown The eye could not escape, a red renown Blowing i…

The difficultest rigor is forthwith, On the image of what we see, to catch from that Irrational moment its unreasoning, As when the sun comes rising, when the …

E o abade pancudo que a tardinha, a varanda, palita o dente furado saboreando o seu cafe com um ar paterno, traz dentro em si os indistintos restos dum Torquem…

I'm always fascinated by the way memory diffuses fact.

To understand a man, you must know his memories. The same is true of a nation.