sexta-feira, 29 de abril de 2011


Henri Le Sidaner, Les Maisons du Port au Clair de Lune (1924).
«And when the evening mist clothes the riverside with poetry, as with a veil, and the poor buildings lose themselves in the dim sky, and the tall chimneys become campanili, and the warehouses are palaces in the night, and the whole city hangs in the heavens, and fairyland is before us--then the wayfarer hastens home; the working man and the cultured one, the wise man and the one of pleasure, cease to understand, as they have ceased to see, and Nature, who, for once, has sung in tune, sings her exquisite song to the artist alone, her son and her master--her son in that he loves her, her master in that he knows her.
To him her secrets are unfolded, to him her lessons have become gradually clear. He looks at he flower, not with the enlarging lens, that he may gather facts for the botanist, but with the light of the one who sees in her choice selection of brilliant tones and delicate tints, suggestions of future harmonies».
Whistler (1885).

6 comentários:

bikim disse...


Margarida Elias disse...

Rosa: Obrigada!

ana disse...

Também acho lindo Margarida!

Margarida Elias disse...

Ana: Muito obrigada! Bom Domingo!

Presépio no Canal disse...

UAU! Lindissimo, tudo!!! :-)

Margarida Elias disse...

Sandra: Fico contente!:) Bom Domingo!