The Blood of the Fish, Gustav Klimt (1898)

… he touched his lips gently to her closed lips. There was no taste. They were dry. The fact that there was no taste seemed to improve them. He might never see her again. By the time the small lips were wet with the taste of sex, Eguchi might already be dead. The thought did not sadden him. Leaving her mouth, his lips brushed against her eyebrows and eyelashes. She moved her head slightly. Her forehead came against his eyes. His eyes were closed, and he closed them tighter.

Wasserschlangen 1, Gustav Klimt (1904-07)

Behind the closed eyes an endless succession of phantasms floated up and disappeared. Presently they began to take on a certain shape. A number of golden arrows flew near and passed on. At their tips were hyacinths of deep purple. At their tails were orchids of various colours. It seemed strange that at such speed the flowers did not fall. Eguchi opened his eyes. He had begun to doze off.

House of the Sleeping Beauties, Yasunari Kawabata