Escutava, com a cabeça apoiada à mão: aqueles sons entravam-lhe na alma com a doçura de vozes místicas que a chamavam: parecia-lhe que ia ser levada por elas, se desprendia de tudo o que era terrestre e agitado, se achava numa praia deserta, junto ao mar triste, sob um frio luar - e ali, puro espírito, livre das misérias carnais, rolava nas ondulações do ar, tremia nos raios luminosos, passava sobre as urzes nos sopros salgados...

-Eça de Queirós

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