Anos de terapia e não aprendi nada.

Então, numa manhã, leio uma coluna do Zé Pedro Goulart na ZH e ta-daaa!

Captei, querido mestre...

No final:

(O Ponteiro que se Move escreve; e tendo escrito,

Prossegue. Nem toda a tua devoção, ou Astúcia,

Conseguirá induzi-lo a cancelar meia Linha.

Nem todo o teu Pranto, apagar uma letra do que foi dito.

Kurt Vonnegut)

ok, tudo bem, mas não é K.V. 

É

The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám

FitzGerald's quatrain LI (in his 1st edition)

Some for the glories of this world; and some
Sigh for The Prophet's Paradise to come;
Ah, take the cash and let the credit go,
Nor heed the rumble of a distant drum

And much as Wine has played the Infidel
And robbed me of my robe of Honour, well ...
I often wonder what the vintners buy
One half so precious as the stuff they sell

For some we loved, the loveliest and best
That from His rolling vintage Time has pressed,
Have drunk their glass a round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to rest

But helpless pieces in the game He plays
Upon this chequer-board of Nights and Days
He hither and thither moves, and checks ... and slays
Then one by one, back in the Closet lays

"The Moving Finger writes: and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it."