When we notice examples as common as Augusto dos Anjos’, that is, examples of a mind that sprouts luminous and independent, seeming to ignore, if not pretermit what is considered fundamental, and we notice reactions that usually accompany this phenomenon, we are inclined to conclude that it is the stones that define an artist’s value. It is curious how individuality always, always seems to demand detachment. Individuality that can also be called essence or identity. And even the artists who, at a given moment, give in to these joint idealizations, to this applause-generating conformity, have to face a moment, perhaps the moment, when they are as if forced to separate themselves from everyone else and move forward alone, despite what others may think or say. Such reflections only lead us to wonder whether these literary associations serve any purpose other than to show us which are the sheep and which are the valuable artists.