quarta-feira, fevereiro 28, 2007
province of the brave
Suddenly, all your history's ablaze
Try to breathe as the world disintegrates
Just like autumn leaves we're in for change
Holding tenderly to what remains
And all your memories are as precious as gold
And all the honey, and the fire which you've stole
Have you running through all your red-cheeked days
Shaking loose these souls, from their sacred hiding space
Hold your heart courageously
As we walk into this dark place
Stand steadfast erect and see
That love is the province of the brave
Province - TV On The Radio
Porque a Quaresma só pode ser tempo de verdade e bravura.
Especialmente durante a solidão.
sábado, fevereiro 24, 2007
em quaresma
Perdoa, Senhor, o nosso dia
a ausência de gestos corajosos
a fraqueza dos actos consentidos
a vida dos momentos mal-amados
Perdoa o espaço que Te não demos
perdoa porque não nos libertámos
perdoa as correntes que pusemos
em Ti, Senhor, porque não ousámos
Contudo, faz-nos sentir
perdoar é esquecer a antiga guerra
e, partindo, recomeçar de novo
como o sol que sempre beija a terra.
a ausência de gestos corajosos
a fraqueza dos actos consentidos
a vida dos momentos mal-amados
Perdoa o espaço que Te não demos
perdoa porque não nos libertámos
perdoa as correntes que pusemos
em Ti, Senhor, porque não ousámos
Contudo, faz-nos sentir
perdoar é esquecer a antiga guerra
e, partindo, recomeçar de novo
como o sol que sempre beija a terra.
domingo, fevereiro 18, 2007
terça-feira, fevereiro 13, 2007
sexta-feira, fevereiro 09, 2007
terça-feira, janeiro 23, 2007
a woman of no importance
MRS. ALLONBY. The Ideal Husband? There couldn't be such a thing. The institution is wrong.
LADY STUTFIELD. The Ideal Man, then, in his relations to US.
LADY CAROLINE. He would probably be extremely realistic.
MRS. CAROLINE. The Ideal Man! Oh, the Ideal Man should talk to us as if we were goddesses, and treat us as if we were children. He should refuse all our serious requests, and gratify every one ofour whims. He should encourage us to have caprices, and forbid us to have missions. He should always say much more than he means, and always mean much more than he says.
LADY HUNSTANTON. But how could he do both, dear?
(...)
MRS. ALLONBY. If we ask him a question about anything, he should give us an answer all about ourselves. He should invariably praise us for whatever qualities he knows we haven't got. But he should be pitiless, quite pitiless, in reproaching us for the virtues that we have never dreamed of possessing. He should never believe that we know the use of useful things. That would be unforgiveable. But he should shower on us everything we don't want.
LADY CAROLINE. As far as I can see, he is to do nothing but paybills and compliments.
MRS. ALLONBY. He should persistently compromise us in public, and treat us with absolute respect when we are alone. And yet he should be always ready to have a perfectly terrible scene, whenever we want one, and to become miserable, absolutely miserable, at a
moment's notice, and to overwhelm us with just reproaches in less than twenty minutes, and to be positively violent at the end of half an hour, and to leave us for ever at a quarter to eight, when we have to go and dress for dinner. And when, after that, one has seen him for really the last time, and he has refused to take back the little things he has given one, and promised never to communicate with one again, or to write one any foolish letters, he should be perfectly broken-hearted, and telegraph to one all daylong, and send one little notes every half-hour by a private hansom, and dine quite alone at the club, so that every one should know how unhappy he was. And after a whole dreadful week, during which one has gone about everywhere with one's husband, just to show how absolutely lonely one was, he may be given a third last parting, in the evening, and then, if his conduct has been quite irreproachable, and one has behaved really badly to him, he should be allowed to admit that he has been entirely in the wrong, and when he has admitted that, it becomes a woman's duty to forgive, and one can do it all over again from the beginning, with variations.
LADY HUNSTANTON. How clever you are, my dear! You never mean a single word you say.
... diálogo delicioso, num livro pequeno mas grande
Oscar Wilde. A woman of no importance
LADY STUTFIELD. The Ideal Man, then, in his relations to US.
LADY CAROLINE. He would probably be extremely realistic.
MRS. CAROLINE. The Ideal Man! Oh, the Ideal Man should talk to us as if we were goddesses, and treat us as if we were children. He should refuse all our serious requests, and gratify every one ofour whims. He should encourage us to have caprices, and forbid us to have missions. He should always say much more than he means, and always mean much more than he says.
LADY HUNSTANTON. But how could he do both, dear?
(...)
MRS. ALLONBY. If we ask him a question about anything, he should give us an answer all about ourselves. He should invariably praise us for whatever qualities he knows we haven't got. But he should be pitiless, quite pitiless, in reproaching us for the virtues that we have never dreamed of possessing. He should never believe that we know the use of useful things. That would be unforgiveable. But he should shower on us everything we don't want.
LADY CAROLINE. As far as I can see, he is to do nothing but paybills and compliments.
MRS. ALLONBY. He should persistently compromise us in public, and treat us with absolute respect when we are alone. And yet he should be always ready to have a perfectly terrible scene, whenever we want one, and to become miserable, absolutely miserable, at a
moment's notice, and to overwhelm us with just reproaches in less than twenty minutes, and to be positively violent at the end of half an hour, and to leave us for ever at a quarter to eight, when we have to go and dress for dinner. And when, after that, one has seen him for really the last time, and he has refused to take back the little things he has given one, and promised never to communicate with one again, or to write one any foolish letters, he should be perfectly broken-hearted, and telegraph to one all daylong, and send one little notes every half-hour by a private hansom, and dine quite alone at the club, so that every one should know how unhappy he was. And after a whole dreadful week, during which one has gone about everywhere with one's husband, just to show how absolutely lonely one was, he may be given a third last parting, in the evening, and then, if his conduct has been quite irreproachable, and one has behaved really badly to him, he should be allowed to admit that he has been entirely in the wrong, and when he has admitted that, it becomes a woman's duty to forgive, and one can do it all over again from the beginning, with variations.
LADY HUNSTANTON. How clever you are, my dear! You never mean a single word you say.
... diálogo delicioso, num livro pequeno mas grande
Oscar Wilde. A woman of no importance
segunda-feira, janeiro 15, 2007
Muda de Vida
Muda de vida se tu não vives satisfeito
Muda de vida, estás sempre a tempo de mudar
Muda de vida, não deves viver contrafeito
Muda de vida, se há vida em ti a latejar
Ver-te sorrir eu nunca te vi
E a cantar, eu nunca te ouvi
Será de ti ou pensas que tens...
que ser assim?...
Olha que a vida não, não é nem deve ser
Como um castigo que tu terás que viver
António Variações
Muda de vida, estás sempre a tempo de mudar
Muda de vida, não deves viver contrafeito
Muda de vida, se há vida em ti a latejar
Ver-te sorrir eu nunca te vi
E a cantar, eu nunca te ouvi
Será de ti ou pensas que tens...
que ser assim?...
Olha que a vida não, não é nem deve ser
Como um castigo que tu terás que viver
António Variações
grande dia! :)
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