João Beckenkamp

“e ao som da péssima orquestra, dos míseros violinos provincianos, ele pensava como ela era linda.”
― Anton Chekhov, Contos

“I hope they spent those last few hours well. I hope they didn’t waste them on mindless tasks: kindling the evening fire and cutting vegetables for dinner. I hope they sang together, as they so often did. I hope they retired to our wagon and spent time in each other’s arms. I hope they lay near each other afterward and spoke softly of small things. I hope they were together, busy with loving each other, until the end came. It is a small hope, and pointless really. They are just as dead either way. Still, I hope.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

“I want you to know, if you ever read this, there was a time when I would rather have had you by my side than any one of these words; I would rather have had you by my side than all the blue in the world.

But now you are talking as if love were a consolation. Simone Weil warned otherwise. 'Love is not consolation,' she wrote. 'It is light.'

All right then, let me try to rephrase. When I was alive, I aimed to be a student not of longing but of light.”
― Maggie Nelson, Bluets

“Nos contos, aparece com frequência este “mas de repente”. Os autores têm razão: a vida é tão cheia de imprevistos!”
― Anton Chekhov, Contos