A veces todo cobra un cariz tan absurdo, que incluso si todo Esto no tuviese una pinta maravillosa, el camino a seguir sería la evidencia en todo su esplendor, señalado por un dedo índice gigantesco.
No son horas . . .
Reflections from a voluntary exile.
No son horas . . . 
El Dedo Divino (El Tiempo!) escribe y, al concluir,
Avanza; ni toda tu devoción o ingenio
Le harían retroceder para eliminar media línea siquiera,
Ni todas tus lágrimas se llevarían una sola palabra.
Verso 51, “ Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám”, Edward Fitzgerald, 1859.
Otra cita!
THE LEADEN ECHO
How to keep….is there any any, is there none such, nowhere known some, bow or brooch or braid or brace, lace, latch or catch or key to keep back beauty, keep it, beauty, beauty, beauty.… from vanishing away?
Oh, is there no frowning of these wrinkles, ranked wrinkles deep, down? No waving off of these most mournful messengers, still messengers, sad and stealing messengers of grey?
No there’s none, there’s none. Oh no there’s none, nor can you long be, what you now are, called fair, do what you may do, what, do what you may, and wisdom is early to despair:
Be beginning; since, no, nothing can be done to keep at bay age and age’s evils, hoar hair, ruck and wrinkle, drooping, dying, death’s worst, winding sheets, tombs and worms and tumbling to decay;
So be beginning, be beginning to despair. Oh there’s none; no no no there’s none: Be beginning to despair, to despair, despair, despair, despair, despair.
Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–89).