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FerJer
Forameus
Posts: 834
Registered: 1-4-2009
Location: São José do Rio Preto
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Mood: A Fala é mansa mas o passado é obscuro
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Frase, pensamento, poema...
Bem, esse tópico destina-se a trazer pensamentos, frases, pedaços de textos, poemas, qquer coisa do gênero que vcs acharam interessante....
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FerJer
Forameus
Posts: 834
Registered: 1-4-2009
Location: São José do Rio Preto
Member Is Offline
Mood: A Fala é mansa mas o passado é obscuro
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Um trecho da obra de Monteiro Lobato, que achei muito interessante...adorei!
Divido com vcs então....
A vida, Senhor Visconde, é um pisca-pisca. A gente nasce, isto é, começa a piscar. Quem para de piscar, chegou ao fim, morreu. Piscar é abrir
e fechar os olhos - viver é isso. É um dorme e acorda, dorme e acorda, até que dorme e não acorda mais.
[...] A vida das gentes neste mundo, senhor sabugo, é isso. Um rosário de piscados. Cada pisco é um dia. Pisca e mama; pisca e brinca; pisca e estuda;
pisca e ama; pisca e cria filhos; pisca e geme os reumatismos; por fim pisca pela última vez e morre.
- E depois que morre? - perguntou o Visconde.
- Depois que morre, vira hipótese. É ou não é?
(Monteiro Lobato)
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LucasShowbiz
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batatinha quando nasce, esparrama pelo chão, quando eu vou dormir o Jerva está no meu Coração.
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FerJer
Forameus
Posts: 834
Registered: 1-4-2009
Location: São José do Rio Preto
Member Is Offline
Mood: A Fala é mansa mas o passado é obscuro
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Hahahhaha...num guento vc, Lucas...
mas Sério....não é pra zuar o tópico...
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Jervásio
Assassin
Posts: 4872
Registered: 9-8-2008
Location: S.J. do Rio Preto e Sampa/SP
Member Is Offline
Mood: Terrasamba, direto de Salvadô... ópaió!!!
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| Quote: | LucasShowbiz
batatinha quando nasce, esparrama pelo chão, quando eu vou dormir o Jerva está no meu Coração. |
ÓÓÓÓÓÓÓÓÓÓÓÓÓÓ... lágrimas!!! 
Pisca e mama; pisca e brinca; pisca e estuda; pisca e ama; pisca e cria filhos;
depois de hoje não lerei as obras do Monteiro Lobato com tanta ingenuidade... *pisca, de medo
A definição de afeição dada pela raposa ao Pequeno Príncipe, no clássico de Saint-Exupery:
"A gente só conhece bem as coisas que cativou", disse a raposa. "Os homens não tem tempo de conhecer coisa alguma. Compram tudo prontinho nas
lojas. Mas como não existem lojas de amigos, os homens não têm mais amigos. Se tu queres uma amiga, cativa-me!"
"Os homens esqueceram a verdade", disse a raposa.
"Mas tu não a deves esquecer. Tu te tornas eternamente responsável por aquilo que cativas"
aê... um trocadinhu pú favô! tô em fim di carrêra, ajuda pai véi, ajuda!!  |
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FerJer
Forameus
Posts: 834
Registered: 1-4-2009
Location: São José do Rio Preto
Member Is Offline
Mood: A Fala é mansa mas o passado é obscuro
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Huahuahuahauahua...realmente....
* pisca, e vai dormir....
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.dame.
Porn Star
Posts: 1683
Registered: 16-7-2008
Location: Belzont - Minz Gerais
Member Is Offline
Mood: undefined
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Pode ser um conte inteiro? Porque esse é muito bom! 
PS: Não desistam por causa do "germenglish". Se eu dei conta, vocês dão.
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The Angel of The Odd
Edgar Allan Poe
It was a chilly November afternoon. I had just consummated an unusually hearty dinner, of which the dyspeptic truffe formed not the least important
item, and was sitting alone in the dining-room with my feet upon the fender and at my elbow a small table which I had rolled up to the fire, and upon
which were some apologies for dessert, with some miscellaneous bottles of wine, spirit, and liqueur. In the morning I had been reading Glover's
Leonidas, Wilkie's Epigoniad, Lamartine's Pilgrimage, Barlow's Columbiad, Tuckerman's Sicily, and Griswold's Curiosities, I am willing to confess,
therefore, that I now felt a little stupid. I made effort to arouse myself by frequent aid of Lafitte, and all failing, I betook myself to a stray
newspaper in despair. Having carefully perused the column of "Houses to let," and the column of "Dogs lost," and then the columns of "Wives and
apprentices runaway," I attacked with great resolution the editorial matter, and reading it from beginning to end without understanding a syllable,
conceived the possibility of its being Chinese, and so re-read it from the end to the beginning, but with no more satisfactory result. I was about
throwing away in disgust
This folio of four pages, happy work
Which not even critics criticise,
when I felt my attention somewhat aroused by the paragraph which follows:
"The avenues to death are numerous and strange. A London paper mentions the decease of a person from a singular cause. He was playing at 'puff the
dart,' which is played with a long needle inserted in some worsted, and blown at a target through a tin tube. He placed the needle at the wrong end of
the tube, and drawing his breath strongly to puff the dart forward with force, drew the needle into his throat. It entered the lungs, and in a few
days killed him."
Upon seeing this I fell into a great rage, without exactly knowing why. "This thing," I exclaimed, "is a contemptible falsehood--a poor hoax--the lees
of the invention of some pitiable penny-a-liner, of some wretched concocter of accidents in Cocaigne. These fellows knowing the extravagant
gullibility of the age set their wits to work in the imagination of improbable possibilities, of odd accidents as they term them, but to a reflecting
intellect (like mine, I added, in parenthesis, putting my forefinger unconsciously to the side of my nose), to a contemplative understanding such as I
myself possess, it seems evident at once that the marvelous increase of late in these 'odd accidents' is by far the oddest accident of all. For my own
part, I intend to believe nothing henceforward that has anything of the 'singular' about it."
"Mein Gott, den, vat a vool you bees for dat!" replied one of the most remarkable voices I ever heard. At first I took it for a rumbling in my
ears--such as a man sometimes experiences when getting very drunk--but upon second thought, I considered the sound as more nearly resembling that
which proceeds from an empty barrel beaten with a big stick; and, in fact, this I should have concluded it to be, but for the articulation of the
syllables and words. I am by no means naturally nervous, and the very few glasses of Lafitte which I had sipped served to embolden me a little, so
that I felt nothing of trepidation, but merely uplifted my eyes with a leisurely movement and looked carefully around the room for the intruder. I
could not, however, perceive any one at all.
"Humph!" resumed the voice as I continued my survey, "you mus pe so dronk as de pig den for not zee me as I zit here at your zide."
Hereupon I bethought me of looking immediately before my nose, and there, sure enough, confronting me at the table sat a personage nondescript,
although not altogether indescribable. His body was a wine-pipe or a rum puncheon, or something of that character, and had a truly Falstaffian air. In
its nether extremity were inserted two kegs, which seemed to answer all the purposes of legs. For arms there dangled from the upper portion of the
carcass two tolerably long bottles with the necks outward for hands. All the head that I saw the monster possessed of was one of those Hessian
canteens which resemble a large snuff-box with a hole in the middle of the lid. This canteen (with a funnel on its top like a cavalier cap slouched
over the eyes) was set on edge upon the puncheon, with the hole toward myself; and through this hole, which seemed puckered up like the mouth of a
very precise old maid, the creature was emitting certain rumbling and grumbling noises which he evidently intended for intelligible talk.
"I zay," said he, "you mos pe dronk as de pig, vor zit dare and not zee me zit ere; and I zay, doo, you mos pe pigger vool as de goose, vor to
dispelief vat iz print in de print. 'Tiz de troof--dat it iz--ebery vord ob it."
"Who are you, pray?" said I with much dignity, although somewhat puzzled; "how did you get here? and what is it you are talking about?"
"As vor ow I com'd ere," replied the figure, "dat iz none of your pizziness; and as vor vat I be talking apout, I be talk apout vat I tink proper; and
as vor who I be, vy dat is de very ting I com'd here for to let you zee for yourself."
"You are a drunken vagabond," said I, "and I shall ring the bell and order my footman to kick you into the street."
"He! he! he!" said the fellow, "hu! hu! hu! dat you can't do."
"Can't do!" said I, "what do you mean? I can't do what?"
"Ring de pell," he replied, attempting a grin with his little villainous mouth.
Upon this I made an effort to get up in order to put my threat into execution, but the ruffian just reached across the table very deliberately, and
hitting me a tap on the forehead with the neck of one of the long bottles, knocked me back into the armchair from which I had half arisen. I was
utterly astounded, and for a moment was quite at a loss what to do. In the meantime he continued his talk.
"You zee," said he, "it iz te bess vor zit still; and now you shall know who I pe. Look at me! zee! I am te Angel ov te Odd."
"And odd enough, too," I ventured to reply; "but I was always under the impression that an angel had wings."
"Te wing!" he cried, highly incensed, "vat I pe do mit te wing? Mein Gott! do you take me for a shicken?"
"No--oh, no!" I replied, much alarmed; "you are no chicken--certainly not."
"Well, den, zit still and pehabe yourself, or I'll rap you again mid me vist. It iz te shicken ab te wing, und te owl ab te wing, und te imp ab te
wing, und te head-teuffel ab te wing. Te angel ab not te wing, and I am te Angel ov te Odd."
"And your business with me at present is--is----"
"My pizziness!" ejaculated the thing, "vy vat a low-bred puppy you mos pe vor to ask a gentleman und an angel apout his pizziness!"
This language was rather more than I could bear, even from an angel; so, plucking up courage, I seized a salt-cellar which lay within reach, and
hurled it at the head of the intruder. Either he dodged, however, or my aim was inaccurate; for all I accomplished was the demolition of the crystal
which protected the dial of the clock upon the mantelpiece. As for the Angel, he evinced his sense of my assault by giving me two or three hard,
consecutive raps upon the forehead as before. These reduced me at once to submission, and I am almost ashamed to confess that, either through pain or
vexation, there came a few tears into my eyes.
"Mein Gott!" said the Angel of the Odd, apparently much softened at my distress; "mein Gott, te man is eder ferry dronk or ferry zorry. You mos not
trink it so strong--you mos put te water in te wine. Here, trink dis, like a good veller, and don't gry now--don't!"
Hereupon the Angel of the Odd replenished my goblet (which was about a third full of port) with a colorless fluid that he poured from one of his
hand-bottles. I observed that these bottles had labels about their necks, and that these labels were inscribed "Kirschenwaesser."
The considerate kindness of the Angel mollified me in no little measure; and, aided by the water with which he diluted my port more than once, I at
length regained sufficient temper to listen to his very extraordinary discourse. I cannot pretend to recount all that he told me, but I gleaned from
what he said that he was a genius who presided over the contretemps of mankind, and whose business it was to bring about the odd accidents which are
continually astonishing the skeptic. Once or twice, upon my venturing to express my total incredulity in respect to his pretensions, he grew very
angry indeed, so that at length I considered it the wiser policy to say nothing at all, and let him have his own way. He talked on, therefore, at
great length, while I merely leaned back in my chair with my eyes shut, and amused myself with munching raisins and filiping the stems about the room.
But, by and by, the Angel suddenly construed this behavior of mine into contempt. He arose in a terrible passion, slouched his funnel down over his
eyes, swore a vast oath, uttered a threat of some character, which I did not precisely comprehend, and finally made me a low bow and departed, wishing
me, in the language of the archbishop in "Gil Bias," beaucoup de bonheur et un peu plus de bon sens.
His departure afforded me relief. The very few glasses of Lafitte that I had sipped had the effect of rendering me drowsy, and I felt inclined to take
a nap of some fifteen or twenty minutes, as is my custom after dinner. At six I had an appointment of consequence, which it was quite indispensable
that I should keep. The policy of insurance for my dwelling-house had expired the day before; and some dispute having arisen it was agreed that, at
six, I should meet the board of directors of the company and settle the terms of a renewal. Glancing upward at the clock on the mantelpiece (for I
felt too drowsy to take out my watch), I had the pleasure to find that I had still twenty-five minutes to spare. It was half-past five; I could easily
walk to the insurance office in five minutes; and my usual siestas had never been known to exceed five-and-twenty. I felt sufficiently safe,
therefore, and composed myself to my slumbers forthwith.
Having completed them to my satisfaction, I again looked toward the timepiece, and was half inclined to believe in the possibility of odd accidents
when I found that, instead of my ordinary fifteen or twenty minutes, I had been dozing only three; for it still wanted seven-and-twenty of the
appointed hour. I betook myself again to my nap, and at length a second time awoke, when, to my utter amazement, it still wanted twenty-seven minutes
of six. I jumped up to examine the clock, and found that it had ceased running. My watch informed me that it was half-past seven; and, of course,
having slept two hours, I was too late for my appointment. "It will make no difference," I said: "I can call at the office in the morning and
apologize; in the meantime what can be the matter with the clock?" Upon examining it I discovered that one of the raisin stems which I had been
filiping about the room during the discourse of the Angel of the Odd had flown through the fractured crystal, and lodging, singularly enough, in the
keyhole, with an end projecting outward, had thus arrested the revolution of the minute hand.
"Ah!" said I, "I see how it is. This thing speaks for itself. A natural accident, such as will happen now and then!"
I gave the matter no further consideration, and at my usual hour retired to bed. Here, having placed a candle upon a reading stand at the bed head,
and having made an attempt to peruse some pages of the Omnipresence of the Deity, I unfortunately fell asleep in less than twenty seconds, leaving the
light burning as it was.
My dreams were terrifically disturbed by visions of the Angel of the Odd. Methought he stood at the foot of the couch, drew aside the curtains, and in
the hollow, detestable tones of a rum puncheon, menaced me with the bitterest vengeance for the contempt with which I had treated him. He concluded a
long harangue by taking off his funnel-cap, inserting the tube into my gullet, and thus deluging me with an ocean of Kirschenwaesser, which he poured
in a continuous flood, from one of the long-necked bottles that stood him instead of an arm. My agony was at length insufferable, and I awoke just in
time to perceive that a rat had run off with the lighted candle from the stand, but not in season to prevent his making his escape with it through the
hole, Very soon a strong, suffocating odor assailed my nostrils; the house, I clearly perceived, was on fire. In a few minutes the blaze broke forth
with violence, and in an incredibly brief period the entire building was wrapped in flames. All egress from my chamber, except through a window, was
cut off. The crowd, however, quickly procured and raised a long ladder. By means of this I was descending rapidly, and in apparent safety, when a huge
hog, about whose rotund stomach, and indeed about whose whole air and physiognomy, there was something which reminded me of the Angel of the Odd--when
this hog, I say, which hitherto had been quietly slumbering in the mud, took it suddenly into his head that his left shoulder needed scratching, and
could find no more convenient rubbing-post than that afforded by the foot of the ladder. In an instant I was precipitated, and had the misfortune to
fracture my arm.
This accident, with the loss of my insurance, and with the more serious loss of my hair, the whole of which had been singed off by the fire,
predisposed me to serious impressions, so that finally I made up my mind to take a wife. There was a rich widow disconsolate for the loss of her
seventh husband, and to her wounded spirit I offered the balm of my vows. She yielded a reluctant consent to my prayers. I knelt at her feet in
gratitude and adoration. She blushed and bowed her luxuriant tresses into close contact with those supplied me temporarily by Grandjean. I know not
how the entanglement took place but so it was. I arose with a shining pate, wigless; she in disdain and wrath, half-buried in alien hair. Thus ended
my hopes of the widow by an accident which could not have been anticipated, to be sure, but which the natural sequence of events had brought about.
Without despairing, however, I undertook the siege of a less implacable heart. The fates were again propitious for a brief period, but again a trivial
incident interfered. Meeting my betrothed in an avenue thronged with the elite of the city, I was hastening to greet her with one of my best
considered bows, when a small particle of some foreign matter lodging in the corner of my eye rendered me for the moment completely blind. Before I
could recover my sight, the lady of my love had disappeared--irreparably affronted at what she chose to consider my premeditated rudeness in passing
her by ungreeted. While I stood bewildered at the suddenness of this accident (which might have happened, nevertheless, to any one under the sun), and
while I still continued incapable of sight, I was accosted by the Angel of the Odd, who proffered me his aid with a civility which I had no reason to
expect. He examined my disordered eye with much gentleness and skill, informed me that I had a drop in it, and (whatever a "drop" was) took it out,
and afforded me relief.
I now considered it high time to die (since fortune had so determined to persecute me), and accordingly made my way to the nearest river. Here,
divesting myself of my clothes (for there is no reason why we cannot die as we were born), I threw myself headlong into the current; the sole witness
of my fate being a solitary crow that had been seduced into the eating of brandy-saturated corn, and so had staggered away from his fellows. No sooner
had I entered the water than this bird took it into his head to fly away with the most indispensable portion of my apparel. Postponing, therefore, for
the present, my suicidal design, I just slipped my nether extremities into the sleeves of my coat, and betook myself to a pursuit of the felon with
all the nimbleness which the case required and its circumstances would admit. But my evil destiny attended me still. As I ran at full speed, with my
nose up in the atmosphere, and intent only upon the purloiner of my property, I suddenly perceived that my feet rested no longer upon terra firma; the
fact is, I had thrown myself over a precipice, and should inevitably have been dashed to pieces but for my good fortune in grasping the end of a long
guide-rope, which depended from a passing balloon.
As soon as I sufficiently recovered my senses to comprehend the terrific predicament in which I stood, or rather hung, I exerted all the power of my
lungs to make that predicament known to the aeronaut overhead. But for a long time I exerted myself in vain. Either the fool could not, or the villain
would not perceive me. Meanwhile the machine rapidly soared, while my strength even more rapidly failed. I was soon upon the point of resigning myself
to my fate, and dropping quietly into the sea, when my spirits were suddenly revived by hearing a hollow voice from above, which seemed to be lazily
humming an opera air. Looking up, I perceived the Angel of the Odd. He was leaning, with his arms folded, over the rim of the car; and with a pipe in
his mouth, at which he puffed leisurely, seemed to be upon excellent terms with himself and the universe. I was too much exhausted to speak, so I
merely regarded him with an imploring air.
For several minutes, although he looked me full in the face, he said nothing. At length, removing carefully his meerschaum from the right to the left
corner of his mouth, he condescended to speak.
"Who pe you," he asked, "und what der teuffel you pe do dare?"
To this piece of impudence, cruelty, and affectation, I could reply only by ejaculating the monosyllable "Help!"
"Elp!" echoed the ruffian, "not I. Dare iz te pottle--elp yourself, und pe tam'd!"
With these words he let fall a heavy bottle of Kirschenwaesser, which, dropping precisely upon the crown of my head, caused me to imagine that my
brains were entirely knocked out. Impressed with this idea I was about to relinquish my hold and give up the ghost with a good grace, when I was
arrested by the cry of the Angel, who bade me hold on.
"'Old on!" he said: "don't pe in te 'urry--don't. Will you pe take de odder pottle, or 'ave you pe got zober yet, and come to your zenzes?"
I made haste, hereupon, to nod my head twice--once in the negative, meaning thereby that I would prefer not taking the other bottle at present; and
once in the affirmative, intending thus to imply that I was sober and had positively come to my senses. By these means I somewhat softened the
Angel.
"Und you pelief, ten," he inquired, "at te last? You pelief, ten, in te possibility of te odd?"
I again nodded my head in assent.
"Und you ave pelief in me, te Angel of te Odd?"
I nodded again.
"Und you acknowledge tat you pe te blind dronk und te vool?"
I nodded once more.
"Put your right hand into your left preeches pocket, ten, in token ov your vull zubmizzion unto te Angel ov te Odd."
This thing, for very obvious reasons, I found it quite impossible to do. In the first place, my left arm had been broken in my fall from the ladder,
and therefore, had I let go my hold with the right hand I must have let go altogether. In the second place, I could have no breeches until I came
across the crow. I was therefore obliged, much to my regret, to shake my head in the negative, intending thus to give the Angel to understand that I
found it inconvenient, just at that moment, to comply with his very reasonable demand! No sooner, however, had I ceased shaking my head than--
"Go to der teuffel, ten!" roared the Angel of the Odd.
In pronouncing these words he drew a sharp knife across the guide-rope by which I was suspended, and as we then happened to be precisely over my own
house (which, during my peregrinations, had been handsomely rebuilt), it so occurred that I tumbled headlong down the ample chimney and alit upon the
dining-room hearth.
Upon coming to my senses (for the fall had very thoroughly stunned me) I found it about four o'clock in the morning. I lay outstretched where I had
fallen from the balloon. My head groveled in the ashes of an extinguished fire, while my feet reposed upon the wreck of a small table, overthrown, and
amid the fragments of a miscellaneous dessert, intermingled with a newspaper, some broken glasses and shattered bottles, and an empty jug of the
Schiedam Kirschenwaesser. Thus revenged himself the Angel of the Odd.
Fonte: Classic Reader
Sometimes I run, Sometimes I hide
Sometimes I'm scared of you
But all I really want is to hold you tight
Treat you right, be with you day and night
Baby, all I need is time
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Jervásio
Assassin
Posts: 4872
Registered: 9-8-2008
Location: S.J. do Rio Preto e Sampa/SP
Member Is Offline
Mood: Terrasamba, direto de Salvadô... ópaió!!!
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pô dame, germenglish creeps me to the nerves 
semana que vem termino de ler heuheuehuehue
aê... um trocadinhu pú favô! tô em fim di carrêra, ajuda pai véi, ajuda!!
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2t dias
Administrator
Posts: 1385
Registered: 15-7-2008
Location: Bhte
Member Is Offline
Mood: Horrorshow
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Ser ou não ser. Eis a questão!
guerra é paz
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Jervásio
Assassin
Posts: 4872
Registered: 9-8-2008
Location: S.J. do Rio Preto e Sampa/SP
Member Is Offline
Mood: Terrasamba, direto de Salvadô... ópaió!!!
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Quem acha tudo gozado é faxineira de motel
C-R-Á-C-I-C-A!! 
aê... um trocadinhu pú favô! tô em fim di carrêra, ajuda pai véi, ajuda!!
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RafaHen
Porn Star
Posts: 2374
Registered: 28-7-2008
Member Is Offline
Mood: Feliz Ano Velho
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pode ser tipo um quote de filme?
se puder...
| Quote: |
Juno: I'm just like losing my faith with humanity.
Mac: Can you can narrow that down for me?
Juno: I just wonder if like, two people can ever stay together for good.
Mac: You mean like couples?
Juno: Yeah, like people in love. |
[hey man, slow down!]
[idiot, slow down!] |
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RafaHen
Porn Star
Posts: 2374
Registered: 28-7-2008
Member Is Offline
Mood: Feliz Ano Velho
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bom, vai outro...
gosto demais desse:
| Quote: |
"Embriaguei-me por mais de uma vez, e as minhas paixões sempre estiveram à beira da loucura, e disso não me arrependo, porque só assim cheguei a
compreender, numa certa medida, a razão por que, em todos os tempos, sempre foram tratados como bêbados e como loucos os homens extraordinários que
realizaram grandes coisas - as que pareciam impossíveis..."
(por Goethe, em Os Sofrimentos do Jovem Werther)
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[hey man, slow down!]
[idiot, slow down!] |
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Lucas Alienado
Porn Star
Posts: 2381
Registered: 24-9-2009
Member Is Online
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Knives Out demoro 373 doas para ser Finalizada!! ** LINDU!
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RafaHen
Porn Star
Posts: 2374
Registered: 28-7-2008
Member Is Offline
Mood: Feliz Ano Velho
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um tópico tão legal morreu tão rápido
[hey man, slow down!]
[idiot, slow down!] |
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Jervásio
Assassin
Posts: 4872
Registered: 9-8-2008
Location: S.J. do Rio Preto e Sampa/SP
Member Is Offline
Mood: Terrasamba, direto de Salvadô... ópaió!!!
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e iço é puscausa das pessoa qui non varolisa a cutura iscrita
Não sou um santo. A menos que para você um santo seja um pecador que simplesmente segue se esforçando.
Nelson Mandela
aê... um trocadinhu pú favô! tô em fim di carrêra, ajuda pai véi, ajuda!!
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.dame.
Porn Star
Posts: 1683
Registered: 16-7-2008
Location: Belzont - Minz Gerais
Member Is Offline
Mood: undefined
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eu não posto nada pq não tenho lido... quer dizer: não tenho lido literatura.
Sometimes I run, Sometimes I hide
Sometimes I'm scared of you
But all I really want is to hold you tight
Treat you right, be with you day and night
Baby, all I need is time
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Ailton SI
Porn Star
Posts: 1283
Registered: 8-9-2009
Location: Arapiraca - AL
Member Is Offline
Mood: Solitude = Eu parecia um maluco na infância, Brincando sozinho. Quem já viu minhas histórias aqui, me entende. LOL
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"O homem está sempre pronto para distorcer aquilo que dizem os seus sentidos, simplesmente para justificar a sua lógica"
(Fiodor Dostoievsk)
I love this guy. 
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FerJer
Forameus
Posts: 834
Registered: 1-4-2009
Location: São José do Rio Preto
Member Is Offline
Mood: A Fala é mansa mas o passado é obscuro
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Não, não morreu..vamos revivê-lo!! e já estamos fazendo..hahahha
Meu senso íntimo predomina de tal maneira sobre meus cinco sentidos que vejo coisas nesta vida - acredito-o - de modo diferente de outros homens. Há
para mim - havia - um tesouro de significado numa coisa tão ridícula como uma chave, um prego na parede, os bigodes de um gato. Há para mim uma
plenitude de sugestão espiritual em uma galinha com seus pintinhos, atravessando a rua, com ar pomposo. Há para mim um significado mais profundo do
que as lágrimas humanas no aroma do sândalo, nas velhas latas num monturo, numa caixa de fósforos caída na sarjeta, em dois papéis sujos que, num dia
de ventania, rolarão e se perseguirão rua abaixo. É que a poesia é espanto, admiração, como de um ser tombado dos céus, a tomar plena consciência de
sua queda, atônito diante das coisas. Como de alguém que conhecesse a alma das coisas, e lutasse para recordar esse conhecimento, lembrando-se de que
não era assim que as conhecia, não sob aquelas formas e aquelas condições, mas de nada mais se recordando.
Fernando Pessoa
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RafaHen
Porn Star
Posts: 2374
Registered: 28-7-2008
Member Is Offline
Mood: Feliz Ano Velho
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AHHHH Fernando Pessoa é tudo
[hey man, slow down!]
[idiot, slow down!] |
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Ailton SI
Porn Star
Posts: 1283
Registered: 8-9-2009
Location: Arapiraca - AL
Member Is Offline
Mood: Solitude = Eu parecia um maluco na infância, Brincando sozinho. Quem já viu minhas histórias aqui, me entende. LOL
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