Blindness

by José Saramago

while trying to cross himself the blind man only succeeded in breaking his own nose.

agnosia, it could be psychic blindness,

went against her belief that dark glasses gave her an air of alluring mystery, capable of arousing the interest of men who were passing,

the smell of the living, however fetid, will be easier to get used to.

Fighting has always been, more or less, a form of blindness,

And when is it necessary to kill, she asked herself as she headed in the direction of the hallway, and she herself answered the question, When what is still alive is already dead.

the descending moon traced and painted a vat of milk on the floor tiles,

into the demented labyrinth of the city,

clichés are like that, they are insensitive to the thousand subtleties of meaning,

they are two round objects that remain inert, it is the eyelids, the eyelashes and the eyebrows, that have to take on board the different visual eloquences and rhetorics, notwithstanding that this is normally attributed to the eyes,

Eyes are just balls, the subtle nuances called expression are created by the eyelids, brows and the miscles around the eyeballs!