e nos seus antípodas

"'Landscapes as yet unpolluted with conventional poetry, and life, that self-conscious stranger, being slapped in the back and told to relax.'
(...)
Ember evoked her ample being, her thirty-seven resplendent years, the bright hair, the full lips, the heavy chin which went so well with the cooing undertones of her voice - something ventriloquial about her, a continuous soliloquy following in willowed shade the meanderings of her actual speech. He saw Krug, the ponderous dandruffed maestro, sitting there with a satisfied and sly smile on his big swarthy face (recalling that of Beethoven in the general correlation of its rugged features) - yes, lolling in that old rose armchair while Olga buoyantly took charge of the conversation - and how vividly one remembers the way she had of letting a sentence bounce and ripple over the three quick bites she took at the raisin cake she held, and the brisk triple splash of her plump hand over the sudden stretch of her lap as she brushed the crumbs away and went on with her story."

in Bend Sinister, V. Nabokov
perseguindo outras mulheres, à vez e à vez.