pode ser viável, que qualquer um tenha escapado ao seu canto, mas certamente não a seu silêncio...

deformações precisas...


As sereias, porém, possuem uma arma ainda mais terrível do que seu canto: seu silêncio. É certo que nunca aconteceu, mas seria talvez concebível que alguém tivesse se salvado de seu canto; de seu silêncio, jamais. O sentimento de tê-las vencido com as próprias forças, a avassaladora arrogância daí resultante, nada neste mundo é capaz de conter.


Kafka, O Silêncio das Sereias.

Jude (and the dream of horses)

While he remained, his face changing, shouts and hurrahs came from somewhere in the direction of the river.
"Ah -yes! The Remembrance games," he murmured. "And I here. And Sue defiled!"
The hurrahs were repeated, drowning the faint organ notes. Jude's face changed more: he whispered slowly, his parched lips scarcely moving:


"Let the day perish wherein I was born, and the night in which it was said, There is a man-child conceived."
("Hurrah!")
"Let that day be darkness; let not God regard it from above, neither let the light shine upon it. Lo, let that night be solitary, let no joyful voice come therein."
("Hurrah!")
"Why died I not from the womb? Why did i not give up the ghost when I came out of the belly? ... For now should I have lain still and been quiet. I should have slept: then had I been at rest!"
("Hurrah!")
"There the prisoners rest together; they hear not the voice of the oppressor... The small and the great are there; and the servant is free from his master. Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, and life unto the bitter in soul?"

Thomas Hardy. Jude the obscure