Momento existencial provocado por (mais) um belo dia de praia passado à frente do computador

The dead were and are not. Their place knows them no more and is ours today.The poetry of history lies in the quasi-miraculous fact that once on this earth, once on this familiar spot of ground, walked other men and women, as actual as we are today, thinking their own thoughts, swayed by their own passions, but now all gone, one generation vanishing into another, gone as utterly as we ourselves shall shortly be gone, like ghosts at cockcrow.

GM Trevelyan