"The ugly and the stupid have the best of it in this world. They can sit at their ease and gape at the play."
- Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray Ch. 1
""I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best."...
"Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul."
it is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious. Oscar Wilde
"There is nothing that can, in the dark become true" A.Baricco
"Sand as far as the eye can see, between the last hills and the sea -- the sea -- in the cold air of an afternoon almost past, and blessed by the wind that always blows from the north.
The beach. And the sea.
It could be perfection -- an image for divine eyes -- a world that happens, that's all, the mute existence of land and water, a work perfectly accomplished, truth --truth -- but once again it is the redeeming grain of a man that jams the mechanism of that paradise, a bagatelle capable on its own of suspending all that great apparatus of inexorable truth, a mere nothing, but one planted in the sand, an imperceptible tear in the surface of that sacred icon, a minuscule exception come to rest on the perfection of that boundless beach. To see him from afar he would be no more than a black dot: amid nothingness, the nothing of a man and a painter's easel. The easel is anchored by slender cords to four stones placed on the sand. It sways imperceptibly in the wind that always blows from the north. The man is wearing waders and a large fisherman's jacket. He is standing, facing the sea, twirling a slim paintbrush between his fingers. On the easel, a canvas."
Alessandro Baricco (Ocean Sea)
"She will open the box and slowly, when she so desires, read the letters one by one. As she works her way back up the interminable thread of blue ink she will gather up the years-- the days, the moments-- that that man, before he ever met her, had already given to her. Or perhaps more simply, she will overturn the box and astonished at that comical snowstorm of letters, she will smile, saying to that man, 'You are mad.' And she will love him forever."
"The rooms began slowly to fill with the scent exhaled from numberless
vases of flowers. Full-blown roses hung their heavy heads over crystal
vases that opened like diamond lilies on a golden stem, similar to those
standing behind the Virgin in the _tondo_ of Botticelli in the Borghese
Gallery. No other shape of vase is to be compared with this for
elegance; in that diaphanous prison, the flowers seemed to etherealise
and had more the air of a religious than an amatory offering.
For Andrea Sperelli was expecting Elena Muti. ...
She had a rather cruel habit of
pulling all the flowers to pieces and scattering them over the carpet at
the end of each of her visits and then stand ready to go, fastening a
glove or a bracelet, and smile in the midst of the devastation she had
wrought. ......" THE CHILD OF PLEASURE G.D ANNUNZIO 1889