Letícia Lima

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Maybe in Another ...
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by Taylor Jenkins Reid (Goodreads Author)
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May 08, 2025 03:13PM

 
A Insustentável L...
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Feb 05, 2025 04:14PM

 
Véspera
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Jan 23, 2025 02:15AM

 
See all 16 books that Letícia is reading…
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Marcel Proust
“Love is a striking example of how little reality means to us.”
Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time
tags: love

Marcel Proust
“If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less, but to dream more, to dream all the time.”
Marcel Proust, Remembrance of Things Past Volumes 1-3 Box Set

Rainer Maria Rilke
“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”
Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Machado de Assis
“Lovers' language, give me an exact and poetic comparison to say what those eyes of Capitu were like. No image comes to mind that doesn't offend against the rules of good style, to say what they were and what they did to me. Undertow eyes? Why not? Undertow. That's the notion that the new expression put in my head. They held some kind of mysterious, active fluid, a force that dragged one in, like the undertow of a wave retreating from the shore on stormy days. So as not to be dragged in, I held onto anything around them, her ears, her arms, her hair spread about her shoulders; but as soon as I returned to the pupils of her eyes again, the wave emerging from them grew towards me, deep and dark, threatening to envelop me, draw me in and swallow me up.”
Machado de Assis, Dom Casmurro

Pablo Neruda
“I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.”
Pablo Neruda

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