31 de março de 2009
26 de fevereiro de 2009
(algures em Londres)
...
Cuz everybody's got a little pieces of someone they hide.
It's okay, it's the way we distract until the day that we die.
...
In all the little pieces of the people that we keep inside.
Cuz you can do-make-say-think-laugh-sink-drink all night...
All the little visions all the little moments that we keep inside.
(The Rapture - Pieces Of The People We Love)
26 de janeiro de 2009
23 de janeiro de 2009
19 de janeiro de 2009
The Tell Tale Heart
By Edgar Allan Poe
True! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily --how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees --very gradually --I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.
By Edgar Allan Poe
True! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily --how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees --very gradually --I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.
Ai que prazer
Não cumprir um dever,
Ter um livro para ler
E não o fazer!
Ler é maçada,
Estudar é nada.
O sol doira
Sem literatura.
O rio corre, bem ou mal,
Sem edição original.
E a brisa, essa,
De tão naturalmente matinal,
Como tem tempo não tem pressa...
Livros são papéis pintados com tinta.
Estudar é uma coisa em que está indistinta
A distinção entre nada e coisa nenhuma.
Quanto é melhor, quando há bruma,
Esperar por D. Sebastião,
Quer venha ou não!
Grande é a poesia, a bondade e as danças...
Mas o melhor do mundo são as crianças,
Flores, música, o luar, e o sol, que peca
Só quando, em vez de criar, seca.
O mais do que isto
É Jesus Cristo,
Que não sabia nada de finanças
Nem consta que tivesse biblioteca...
Liberdade, Fernando Pessoa
18 de janeiro de 2009
17 de janeiro de 2009
Stars - The wood / Matchbox Pinhole
that day we walked a little deeper
breathless and too alive to sleep
you always said i was a dreamer
but now i know whos dreaming deep
you took me to the woods to show me something
but ill turn my face away
you touched me in the sahed but then it got darker
lets save it for another day
that day we walked a little deeper
breathless, lost and too alive to stop
i always knew you'd be the one to show me a grove to lie in and cry into the treetops
breathless and too alive to sleep
you always said i was a dreamer
but now i know whos dreaming deep
you took me to the woods to show me something
but ill turn my face away
you touched me in the sahed but then it got darker
lets save it for another day
that day we walked a little deeper
breathless, lost and too alive to stop
i always knew you'd be the one to show me a grove to lie in and cry into the treetops
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