Giorgione and Paul Valéry

At that moment the rooster crowed—and did not crow—and it was not a rooster, nor was it, perhaps, a moment. The wind freshened—and did not freshen—and the sky powdered with stars had not existed; withdrawn just in the nick of time, like everything else.
And at each moment, what was had never been.
Then suddenly in the flawless silence, in broad daylight—across the hush that filled the world—a tremendous voice gave tongue. But nothing more. Nothing was to be seen, however much one looked. An auditory illusion I decided.
A sudden happening, gone in a flash, unforeseen and leaving no trace behind, does not exist.

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