tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79589899630813898592024-02-02T19:38:55.276-03:00a cup of thallyUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7958989963081389859.post-79148468440652343672010-04-29T10:43:00.001-03:002010-04-29T10:43:04.122-03:00<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Vontade de deixar o que estou fazendo e fugir com o meu amor!!!</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7958989963081389859.post-65144931369757368472010-04-29T10:42:00.002-03:002010-04-29T10:42:24.389-03:00<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Vontade de ler um livro...</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7958989963081389859.post-10911303297842371212010-04-29T10:38:00.000-03:002010-04-29T10:38:37.032-03:00<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Vontade de criar!!! </span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7958989963081389859.post-72647339275608020212009-11-05T15:00:00.000-02:002009-11-05T15:00:59.970-02:00The Black Cat by Edgar Allan Poe<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">FOR the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit</span><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;">belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own<br />evidence. Yet, mad am I not - and very surely do I not dream. But to-morrow I die, and to-day I<br />would unburthen my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the world, plainly, succinctly,<br />and without comment, a series of mere household events. In their consequences, these events have<br />terrified - have tortured - have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to expound them. To me, they<br />have presented little but Horror - to many they will seem less terrible than barroques. Hereafter,<br />perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the common-place - some<br />intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will perceive, in the<br />circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes<br />and effects.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;">From my infancy I was noted for the docility and humanity of my disposition. My tenderness of<br />heart was even so conspicuous as to make me the jest of my companions. I was especially fond of<br />animals, and was indulged by my parents with a great variety of pets. With these I spent most of my<br />time, and never was so happy as when feeding and caressing them. This peculiarity of character<br />grew with my growth, and in my manhood, I derived from it one of my principal sources of<br />pleasure. To those who have cherished an affection for a faithful and sagacious dog, I need hardly<br />be at the trouble of explaining the nature or the intensity of the gratification thus derivable. There is<br />something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of<br />him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man .<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">I married early, and was happy to find in my wife a disposition not uncongenial with my own.<br />Observing my partiality for domestic pets, she lost no opportunity of procuring those of the most<br />agreeable kind. We had birds, gold-fish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey, and a cat .<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">This latter was a remarkably large and beautiful animal, entirely black, and sagacious to an<br />astonishing degree. In speaking of his intelligence, my wife, who at heart was not a little tinctured<br />with superstition, made frequent allusion to the ancient popular notion, which regarded all black<br />cats as witches in disguise. Not that she was ever serious upon this point - and I mention the matter<br />at all for no better reason than that it happens, just now, to be remembered.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">Pluto - this was the cat's name - was my favorite pet and playmate. I alone fed him, and he attended<br />me wherever I went about the house. It was even with difficulty that I could prevent him from<br />following me through the streets.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">Our friendship lasted, in this manner, for several years, during which my general temperament and<br />character - through the instrumentality of the Fiend Intemperance - had (I blush to confess it)<br />experienced a radical alteration for the worse. I grew, day by day, more moody, more irritable, more<br />regardless of the feelings of others. I suffered myself to use intemperate language to my wife. At<br />length, I even offered her personal violence. My pets, of course, were made to feel the change in my<br />disposition. I not only neglected, but ill-used them. For Pluto, however, I still retained sufficient<br />regard to restrain me from maltreating him, as I made no scruple of maltreating the rabbits, the<br />monkey, or even the dog, when by accident, or through affection, they came in my way. But my<br />disease grew upon me - for what disease is like Alcohol! - and at length even Pluto, who was now<br />becoming old, and consequently somewhat peevish - even Pluto began to experience the effects of<br />my ill temper.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my haunts about town, I fancied that the<br />cat avoided my presence. I seized him; when, in his fright at my violence, he inflicted a slight<br />wound upon my hand with his teeth. The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no<br />longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body and a more than fiendish<br />malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame. I took from my waistcoat-pocket a penknife,<br />opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from the<br />socket! I blush, I burn, I shudder, while I pen the damnable atrocity.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">When reason returned with the morning - when I had slept off the fumes of the night's debauch - I<br />experienced a sentiment half of horror, half of remorse, for the crime of which I had been guilty; but<br />it was, at best, a feeble and equivocal feeling, and the soul remained untouched. I again plunged into<br />excess, and soon drowned in wine all memory of the deed.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">In the meantime the cat slowly recovered. The socket of the lost eye presented, it is true, a frightful<br />appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer any pain. He went about the house as usual, but, as<br />might be expected, fled in extreme terror at my approach. I had so much of my old heart left, as to<br />be at first grieved by this evident dislike on the part of a creature which had once so loved me. But<br />this feeling soon gave place to irritation. And then came, as if to my final and irrevocable<br />overthrow, the spirit of PERVERSENESS. Of this spirit philosophy takes no account. Yet I am not<br />more sure that my soul lives, than I am that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of the<br />human heart - one of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which give direction to the<br />character of Man. Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or a silly action,<br />for no other reason than because he knows he should not? Have we not a perpetual inclination, in<br />the teeth of our best judgment, to violate that which is Law , merely because we understand it to be<br />such? This spirit of perverseness, I say, came to my final overthrow. It was this unfathomable<br />longing of the soul to vex itself - to offer violence to its own nature - to do wrong for the wrong's<br />sake only - that urged me to continue and finally to consummate the injury I had inflicted upon the<br />unoffending brute. One morning, in cool blood, I slipped a noose about its neck and hung it to the<br />limb of a tree; - hung it with the tears streaming from my eyes, and with the bitterest remorse at my<br />heart; - hung it because I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given me no reason of<br />offence; - hung it because I knew that in so doing I was committing a sin - a deadly sin that would<br />so jeopardize my immortal soul as to place it - if such a thing wore possible - even beyond the reach<br />of the infinite mercy of the Most Merciful and Most Terrible God.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">On the night of the day on which this cruel deed was done, I was aroused from sleep by the cry of<br />fire. The curtains of my bed were in flames. The whole house was blazing. It was with great<br />difficulty that my wife, a servant, and myself, made our escape from the conflagration. The<br />destruction was complete. My entire worldly wealth was swallowed up, and I resigned myself<br />thenceforward to despair.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster<br />and the atrocity. But I am detailing a chain of facts - and wish not to leave even a possible link<br />imperfect. On the day succeeding the fire, I visited the ruins. The walls, with one exception, had<br />fallen in. This exception was found in a compartment wall, not very thick, which stood about the<br />middle of the house, and against which had rested the head of my bed. The plastering had here, in<br />great measure, resisted the action of the fire - a fact which I attributed to its having been recently<br />spread. About this wall a dense crowd were collected, and many persons seemed to be examining a<br />particular portion of it with very minute and eager attention. The words "strange!" "singular!" and<br />other similar expressions, excited my curiosity. I approached and saw, as if graven in bas relief upon<br />the white surface, the figure of a gigantic cat. The impression was given with an accuracy truly<br />marvellous. There was a rope about the animal's neck.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">When I first beheld this apparition - for I could scarcely regard it as less - my wonder and my terror<br />were extreme. But at length reflection came to my aid. The cat, I remembered, had been hung in a<br />garden adjacent to the house. Upon the alarm of fire, this garden had been immediately filled by the<br />crowd - by some one of whom the animal must have been cut from the tree and thrown, through an<br />open window, into my chamber. This had probably been done with the view of arousing me from<br />sleep. The falling of other walls had compressed the victim of my cruelty into the substance of the<br />freshly-spread plaster; the lime of which, with the flames, and the ammonia from the carcass, had<br />then accomplished the portraiture as I saw it.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">Although I thus readily accounted to my reason, if not altogether to my conscience, for the startling<br />fact just detailed, it did not the less fail to make a deep impression upon my fancy. For months I<br />could not rid myself of the phantasm of the cat; and, during this period, there came back into my<br />spirit a half-sentiment that seemed, but was not, remorse. I went so far as to regret the loss of the<br />animal, and to look about me, among the vile haunts which I now habitually frequented, for another<br />pet of the same species, and of somewhat similar appearance, with which to supply its place.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">One night as I sat, half stupified, in a den of more than infamy, my attention was suddenly drawn to<br />some black object, reposing upon the head of one of the immense hogsheads of Gin, or of Rum,<br />which constituted the chief furniture of the apartment. I had been looking steadily at the top of this<br />hogshead for some minutes, and what now caused me surprise was the fact that I had not sooner<br />perceived the object thereupon. I approached it, and touched it with my hand. It was a black cat - a<br />very large one - fully as large as Pluto, and closely resembling him in every respect but one. Pluto<br />had not a white hair upon any portion of his body; but this cat had a large, although indefinite<br />splotch of white, covering nearly the whole region of the breast. Upon my touching him, he<br />immediately arose, purred loudly, rubbed against my hand, and appeared delighted with my notice.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">This, then, was the very creature of which I was in search. I at once offered to purchase it of the<br />landlord; but this person made no claim to it - knew nothing of it - had never seen it before.<br />I continued my caresses, and, when I prepared to go home, the animal evinced a disposition to<br />accompany me. I permitted it to do so; occasionally stooping and patting it as I proceeded. When it<br />reached the house it domesticated itself at once, and became immediately a great favorite with my<br />wife.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">For my own part, I soon found a dislike to it arising within me. This was just the reverse of what I<br />had anticipated; but - I know not how or why it was - its evident fondness for myself rather<br />disgusted and annoyed. By slow degrees, these feelings of disgust and annoyance rose into the<br />bitterness of hatred. I avoided the creature; a certain sense of shame, and the remembrance of my<br />former deed of cruelty, preventing me from physically abusing it. I did not, for some weeks, strike,<br />or otherwise violently ill use it; but gradually - very gradually - I came to look upon it with<br />unutterable loathing, and to flee silently from its odious presence, as from the breath of a pestilence.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">What added, no doubt, to my hatred of the beast, was the discovery, on the morning after I brought<br />it home, that, like Pluto, it also had been deprived of one of its eyes. This circumstance, however,<br />only endeared it to my wife, who, as I have already said, possessed, in a high degree, that humanity<br />of feeling which had once been my distinguishing trait, and the source of many of my simplest and<br />purest pleasures.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">With my aversion to this cat, however, its partiality for myself seemed to increase. It followed my<br />footsteps with a pertinacity which it would be difficult to make the reader comprehend. Whenever I<br />sat, it would crouch beneath my chair, or spring upon my knees, covering me with its loathsome<br />caresses. If I arose to walk it would get between my feet and thus nearly throw me down, or,<br />fastening its long and sharp claws in my dress, clamber, in this manner, to my breast. At such times,<br />although I longed to destroy it with a blow, I was yet withheld from so doing, partly by a memory of<br />my former crime, but chiefly - let me confess it at once - by absolute dread of the beast.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">This dread was not exactly a dread of physical evil - and yet I should be at a loss how otherwise to<br />define it. I am almost ashamed to own - yes, even in this felon's cell, I am almost ashamed to own -<br />that the terror and horror with which the animal inspired me, had been heightened by one of the<br />merest chimaeras it would be possible to conceive. My wife had called my attention, more than<br />once, to the character of the mark of white hair, of which I have spoken, and which constituted the<br />sole visible difference between the strange beast and the one I had destroyed. The reader will<br />remember that this mark, although large, had been originally very indefinite; but, by slow degrees -<br />degrees nearly imperceptible, and which for a long time my Reason struggled to reject as fanciful -<br />it had, at length, assumed a rigorous distinctness of outline. It was now the representation of an<br />object that I shudder to name - and for this, above all, I loathed, and dreaded, and would have rid<br />myself of the monster had I dared - it was now, I say, the image of a hideous - of a ghastly thing - of<br />the GALLOWS ! - oh, mournful and terrible engine of Horror and of Crime - of Agony and of<br />Death !<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">And now was I indeed wretched beyond the wretchedness of mere Humanity. And a brute beast -<br />whose fellow I had contemptuously destroyed - a brute beast to work out for me - for me a man,<br />fashioned in the image of the High God - so much of insufferable wo! Alas! neither by day nor by<br />night knew I the blessing of Rest any more! During the former the creature left me no moment<br />alone; and, in the latter, I started, hourly, from dreams of unutterable fear, to find the hot breath of<br />the thing upon my face, and its vast weight - an incarnate Night-Mare that I had no power to shake<br />off - incumbent eternally upon my heart !<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">Beneath the pressure of torments such as these, the feeble remnant of the good within me<br />succumbed. Evil thoughts became my sole intimates - the darkest and most evil of thoughts. The<br />moodiness of my usual temper increased to hatred of all things and of all mankind; while, from the<br />sudden, frequent, and ungovernable outbursts of a fury to which I now blindly abandoned myself,<br />my uncomplaining wife, alas! was the most usual and the most patient of sufferers.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">One day she accompanied me, upon some household errand, into the cellar of the old building<br />which our poverty compelled us to inhabit. The cat followed me down the steep stairs, and, nearly<br />throwing me headlong, exasperated me to madness. Uplifting an axe, and forgetting, in my wrath,<br />the childish dread which had hitherto stayed my hand, I aimed a blow at the animal which, of<br />course, would have proved instantly fatal had it descended as I wished. But this blow was arrested<br />by the hand of my wife. Goaded, by the interference, into a rage more than demoniacal, I withdrew<br />my arm from her grasp and buried the axe in her brain. She fell dead upon the spot, without a groan.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">This hideous murder accomplished, I set myself forthwith, and with entire deliberation, to the task<br />of concealing the body. I knew that I could not remove it from the house, either by day or by night,<br />without the risk of being observed by the neighbors. Many projects entered my mind. At one period<br />I thought of cutting the corpse into minute fragments, and destroying them by fire. At another, I<br />resolved to dig a grave for it in the floor of the cellar. Again, I deliberated about casting it in the<br />well in the yard - about packing it in a box, as if merchandize, with the usual arrangements, and so<br />getting a porter to take it from the house. Finally I hit upon what I considered a far better expedient<br />than either of these. I determined to wall it up in the cellar - as the monks of the middle ages are<br />recorded to have walled up their victims.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">For a purpose such as this the cellar was well adapted. Its walls were loosely constructed, and had<br />lately been plastered throughout with a rough plaster, which the dampness of the atmosphere had<br />prevented from hardening. Moreover, in one of the walls was a projection, caused by a false<br />chimney, or fireplace, that had been filled up, and made to resemble the red of the cellar. I made no<br />doubt that I could readily displace the bricks at this point, insert the corpse, and wall the whole up as<br />before, so that no eye could detect any thing suspicious. And in this calculation I was not deceived.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">By means of a crow-bar I easily dislodged the bricks, and, having carefully deposited the body<br />against the inner wall, I propped it in that position, while, with little trouble, I re-laid the whole<br />structure as it originally stood. Having procured mortar, sand, and hair, with every possible<br />precaution, I prepared a plaster which could not be distinguished from the old, and with this I very<br />carefully went over the new brickwork. When I had finished, I felt satisfied that all was right. The<br />wall did not present the slightest appearance of having been disturbed. The rubbish on the floor was<br />picked up with the minutest care. I looked around triumphantly, and said to myself - "Here at least,<br />then, my labor has not been in vain."<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">My next step was to look for the beast which had been the cause of so much wretchedness; for I<br />had, at length, firmly resolved to put it to death. Had I been able to meet with it, at the moment,<br />there could have been no doubt of its fate; but it appeared that the crafty animal had been alarmed at<br />the violence of my previous anger, and forebore to present itself in my present mood. It is<br />impossible to describe, or to imagine, the deep, the blissful sense of relief which the absence of the<br />detested creature occasioned in my bosom. It did not make its appearance during the night - and thus<br />for one night at least, since its introduction into the house, I soundly and tranquilly slept; aye, slept<br />even with the burden of murder upon my soul!<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">The second and the third day passed, and still my tormentor came not. Once again I breathed as a<br />freeman. The monster, in terror, had fled the premises forever! I should behold it no more! My<br />happiness was supreme! The guilt of my dark deed disturbed me but little. Some few inquiries had<br />been made, but these had been readily answered. Even a search had been instituted - but of course<br />nothing was to be discovered. I looked upon my future felicity as secured.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">Upon the fourth day of the assassination, a party of the police came, very unexpectedly, into the<br />house, and proceeded again to make rigorous investigation of the premises. Secure, however, in the<br />inscrutability of my place of concealment, I felt no embarrassment whatever. The officers bade me<br />accompany them in their search. They left no nook or corner unexplored. At length, for the third or<br />fourth time, they descended into the cellar. I quivered not in a muscle. My heart beat calmly as that<br />of one who slumbers in innocence. I walked the cellar from end to end. I folded my arms upon my<br />bosom, and roamed easily to and fro. The police were thoroughly satisfied and prepared to depart.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">The glee at my heart was too strong to be restrained. I burned to say if but one word, by way of<br />triumph, and to render doubly sure their assurance of my guiltlessness.<br />"Gentlemen," I said at last, as the party ascended the steps, "I delight to have allayed your<br />suspicions. I wish you all health, and a little more courtesy. By the bye, gentlemen, this - this is a<br />very well constructed house." [In the rabid desire to say something easily, I scarcely knew what I<br />uttered at all.] - "I may say an excellently well constructed house. These walls are you going,<br />gentlemen? - these walls are solidly put together;" and here, through the mere phrenzy of bravado, I<br />rapped heavily, with a cane which I held in my hand, upon that very portion of the brick-work<br />behind which stood the corpse of the wife of my bosom.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">But may God shield and deliver me from the fangs of the Arch-Fiend ! No sooner had the<br />reverberation of my blows sunk into silence, than I was answered by a voice from within the tomb! -<br />by a cry, at first muffled and broken, like the sobbing of a child, and then quickly swelling into one<br />long, loud, and continuous scream, utterly anomalous and inhuman - a howl - a wailing shriek, half<br />of horror and half of triumph, such as might have arisen only out of hell, conjointly from the throats<br />of the dammed in their agony and of the demons that exult in the damnation.<br /> </span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">Of my own thoughts it is folly to speak. Swooning, I staggered to the opposite wall. For one instant<br />the party upon the stairs remained motionless, through extremity of terror and of awe. In the next, a<br />dozen stout arms were toiling at the wall. It fell bodily. The corpse, already greatly decayed and<br />clotted with gore, stood erect before the eyes of the spectators. Upon its head, with red extended<br />mouth and solitary eye of fire, sat the hideous beast whose craft had seduced me into murder, and<br />whose informing voice had consigned me to the hangman. I had walled the monster up within the<br />tomb!</span><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7958989963081389859.post-21238591411810817752009-11-05T14:39:00.002-02:002009-11-05T14:42:55.031-02:00The bittersweet symphony<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
Try to make ends meet</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
You're a slave to money then you die</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
You know the one that takes you to the places </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
where all the veins meet yeah, </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
No change, I can change</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I can change, I can change</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
But I'm here in my mold</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I am here in my mold</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
But I'm a million different people </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
from one day to the next</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I can't change my mold</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
No, no, no, no, no</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
Well I never pray</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
But tonight I'm on my knees yeah</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
But the airways are clean and there's nobody singing to me now</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
No change, I can change</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I can change, I can change</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
But I'm here in my mold</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I am here in my mold</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
And I'm a million different people</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
from one day to the next</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I can't change my mold</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
No, no, no, no, no</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I can't change</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I can't change</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
Try to make ends meet</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
Try to find some money then you die</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
You know the one that takes you to the places </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
where all the things meet yeah </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
You know I can change, I can change</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I can change, I can change</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
But I'm here in my mold</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I am here in my mold</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
And I'm a million different people</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
from one day to the next</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I can't change my mold</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
No, no, no, no, no</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I can't change my mold</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
no, no, no, no, no,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I can't change</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
Can't change my body,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
no, no, no</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
Been down</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
Ever been down</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
Ever been down</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
Ever been down</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
Ever been down</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
Have you ever been down?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
Have you've ever been down?</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">Although the song's lyrics were written by Verve vocalist <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Ashcroft" title="Richard Ashcroft">Richard Ashcroft</a>, it has been credited to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keith_Richards" title="Keith Richards">Keith Richards</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mick_Jagger" title="Mick Jagger">Mick Jagger</a> after charges by the original copyright owners that the song was plagiarized from the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Andrew_Oldham_Orchestra" title="The Andrew Oldham Orchestra">Andrew Oldham Orchestra</a> recording of The Rolling Stones' 1965 song "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Last_Time_%28song%29" title="The Last Time (song)">The Last Time</a>".</span><span style="font-size: small;"> <br /></span><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7958989963081389859.post-35829879185888204802009-11-05T14:29:00.001-02:002009-11-05T14:41:23.903-02:00The free little pigs<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Once upon a time three pigs: Tom, Mee, Flu. They were living sick.</span><br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />One day a stupid wolf went the pigs house. He was hungry.But, when he saw the pigs, he was afraid and ran away.</span><br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6JyqllJYlDd0EjYCkB3PKQYGmFuGaD5FjpQoZxVtKUMx6GhIg8X68r8vNWIOOJCxvYrX4kVbqrXFnCOXfYCQnVged2Mc2WI9OgYfbexBHHC3eYBYdv88Ht8WWhABq0OVh6JYEdHor0ik/s1600-h/gripe-suina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6JyqllJYlDd0EjYCkB3PKQYGmFuGaD5FjpQoZxVtKUMx6GhIg8X68r8vNWIOOJCxvYrX4kVbqrXFnCOXfYCQnVged2Mc2WI9OgYfbexBHHC3eYBYdv88Ht8WWhABq0OVh6JYEdHor0ik/s320/gripe-suina.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Help!!! Help!!!</span><br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">And the wolf ran soo much. And he thought.</span><br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">If I were hungry, I wouldn't have gone there to ask the Pizza Place's number.</span><br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">After the woulf went away, a little pig said: that wolf doesn't watch TV.</span><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7958989963081389859.post-74477425717465643962009-11-05T14:15:00.002-02:002009-11-05T14:19:04.035-02:00Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe<table align="CENTER" bgcolor="#ffffff" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" height="920" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; width: 379px;"><tbody>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">It was many and many a year ago,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> In a kingdom by the sea,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">That a maiden there lived whom you may know</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> By the name of Annabel Lee;</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">And this maiden she lived with no other thought</span><br />
</td><td valign="top"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=7958989963081389859&postID=7447742571746564396" name="5"></a></span><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> Than to love and be loved by me.</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">I was a child and she was a child,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> In this kingdom by the sea,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">But we loved with a love that was more than love,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> I and my Annabel Lee;</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">With a love that the wingèd seraphs of heaven</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> Coveted her and me.</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">And this was the reason that, long ago,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> In this kingdom by the sea,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> My beautiful Annabel Lee;</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">So that her highborn kinsmen came</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> And bore her away from me,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">To shut her up in a sepulchre</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> In this kingdom by the sea.</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">The angels, not half so happy in heaven,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> Went envying her and me;</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> In this kingdom by the sea)</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">That the wind came out of the cloud by night,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">But our love it was stronger by far than the love</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> Of those who were older than we,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> Of many far wiser than we;</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">And neither the angels in heaven above,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=7958989963081389859&postID=7447742571746564396" name="30"></a></span><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> Nor the demons down under the sea,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">Can ever dissever my soul from the soul</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> Of the beautiful Annabel Lee</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=7958989963081389859&postID=7447742571746564396" name="35"></a></span><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;">Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> In her sepulchre there by the sea,</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
</td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-size: small;"> In her tomb by the sounding sea.</span><br />
</td><td valign="TOP"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=7958989963081389859&postID=7447742571746564396" name="41"></a></span><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7958989963081389859.post-9588568370828699222009-11-05T13:08:00.006-02:002009-11-05T13:14:16.143-02:00Tsuru's land<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"></span></b>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></b><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">It is said that this bird is a symbol of longevity.</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The
figure of Tsuru (crane) is one of the most popular origami and also
considered the most perfect folding because its basic form is the basis
for other paper figures from animals to plants.</span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgloyf7Klcj_SgwpeWAE8LszC6oqU0OCAeB5fv0q6lF7hkXyyiiEaZNzYdjkOWkF_blGUwr4nQnkX-3n7L5k103sVjUqtt8DrF6xWO_gScUqrb4svXgNn8XCZMQvvN5lAX-BXVGvOoknvU/s1600-h/tsuru+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgloyf7Klcj_SgwpeWAE8LszC6oqU0OCAeB5fv0q6lF7hkXyyiiEaZNzYdjkOWkF_blGUwr4nQnkX-3n7L5k103sVjUqtt8DrF6xWO_gScUqrb4svXgNn8XCZMQvvN5lAX-BXVGvOoknvU/s320/tsuru+4.jpg" /></a></span><br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">A long time ago people used to hang these birds of paper on the ceiling to entertain
the children, especially babies who could not walk. The paper cranes
were also offered in temples and altars, along with the prayer for
protection. It is believed that originally, they had only a decorative
function, and only later were associated with the prayers, luck and
fortunes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Nowadays in Japan, New Year's celebrations, marriage, birth in festive celebrations in general, the figure of the Tsuru is present in the decoration or packaging gift symbolizing health and fortune.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">When a person is sick, she offers a thousand cranes (senbazuru) so that it is reinstated as soon as possible. By doubling each figure, people place in it all faith and hope in the recovery of the patient. The Peace Monument in Hiroshima, where the atomic bomb fell, several sets of a thousand cranes, from all parts of Japan are made by school students at last by a group of people who banded together to ask one thing: peace world. To prepare these thousand cranes need unity, faith and effort of many people, thus forming a chain of positive thinking.</span><br />
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVpg4obqYX3HdeT0y2R4ZEk1hppW1LrBMrbg81-KZlWISPKVpy7fh-sBWomLDhyg09us-Fl-NI0HzKbylMoP4nn6SlIjjZqRvFwlk9ZER7OL5PLxY3zCBCldE9tkooKI17UmI4kEMxVQE/s1600-h/tsuru+7_peq.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVpg4obqYX3HdeT0y2R4ZEk1hppW1LrBMrbg81-KZlWISPKVpy7fh-sBWomLDhyg09us-Fl-NI0HzKbylMoP4nn6SlIjjZqRvFwlk9ZER7OL5PLxY3zCBCldE9tkooKI17UmI4kEMxVQE/s320/tsuru+7_peq.jpg" /></a><br /></div>
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</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7958989963081389859.post-71007565368030068822009-11-05T11:09:00.001-02:002009-11-05T11:10:34.647-02:00I'll go... I'll go back another station<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Don't ask me to be consistent, because I am. Again the wind came and it found my being.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Increasingly whole, increasingly alone. It will be a trend? It will be a choice? Or the destiny?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Everything points to a new way, wihich I want. And everything leads me to think I spent my life idealizing a lot nothing. And nothing, I believe, prepared my soul for everything, or almost everything.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I'll go... I know I'll come back different. At another station.</span><br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghnMnw5Jn5WCsvm73JPMDiRNnESP2D3BkrnWHiRuJGpScgT60nor2HYV5J4d2YJuQsxx51agS39E6Wb7Mi9HU05GCmwp9y9QyGrYmxOEs25iT_kP7axYJFsLuIvkunibe29YzeL8cxJC0/s1600-h/Uma-Outra-Esta%C3%A7%C3%A3o_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghnMnw5Jn5WCsvm73JPMDiRNnESP2D3BkrnWHiRuJGpScgT60nor2HYV5J4d2YJuQsxx51agS39E6Wb7Mi9HU05GCmwp9y9QyGrYmxOEs25iT_kP7axYJFsLuIvkunibe29YzeL8cxJC0/s320/Uma-Outra-Esta%C3%A7%C3%A3o_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg" /></a><br /></div>
<br />
<br />
</div>
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7958989963081389859.post-91828068128324173802009-11-05T10:54:00.002-02:002009-11-05T10:58:20.062-02:00Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFC5Z5HlVW3ba0Cw7Bp_yfs-5UINY-PFxYJYOtUVSPhsdcCyG2ZsKmZSF9NABMgjpFgj-lJj5mKw9c4h7lmF-MTa3AmGuO400R-mLoe1qJPGuD4XdEv7m7QJ2lknAihJA_ip0uESIkWWQ/s1600-h/attached_file_9169.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFC5Z5HlVW3ba0Cw7Bp_yfs-5UINY-PFxYJYOtUVSPhsdcCyG2ZsKmZSF9NABMgjpFgj-lJj5mKw9c4h7lmF-MTa3AmGuO400R-mLoe1qJPGuD4XdEv7m7QJ2lknAihJA_ip0uESIkWWQ/s320/attached_file_9169.jpg" /></a><br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">What time?</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">If the time is not more the same</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">and I did not learn to count</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">these anxious seconds</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Almost a century has passed</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">while I used to write</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">and what I thought</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I do not think more</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I realize only now</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">the weather outside</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">is bluer than</span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">inside</span><span style="font-size: small;"> <br /></span><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7958989963081389859.post-27328092582966015202009-11-02T17:40:00.001-02:002009-11-02T17:41:58.186-02:00ABSTRACT<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Orkut consists of a public place of discontinuities, where intimacy is unveiled through the subjects‟ narratives. To narrate knowing that one is being watched enacts a game of “displaying” and “hiding” which, somehow, rules and constitutes the social relations of such virtual place. When narrating their experiences, the subjects enact discourses that, beyond their own voices, bring the voices of the others. There is an entanglement of memories, from where one selects and organizes, on time and space, the hiper-textuality of one‟s own writing. It is possible to “walk” along such “Blue City” and to identify the rituals of contemporaneity which have started to settle into our society: new ways of narrating death, new ways of experimenting mourning, and new ways of rendering public that which, for a long time, had been confined to the private domain. In the present research, I attempt to understand how teenagers, users of Orkut, are dealing with life and death, with the ambivalent loneliness that springs from a set of virtual relations which might shorten some distances and make rifts between others. I analyze discourses of Brazilian youngsters who committed suicide and left, along the public spaces of Orkut, the virtual traces of a foretold, uttered death.</span><br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">Keywords: Suicide, Internet, Orkut, Discourse Analysis</span><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7958989963081389859.post-1375258020662744642009-09-18T13:00:00.000-03:002009-09-18T13:00:24.855-03:00Have you ever seen this movie?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqYpQaPuqOH7mL06Qf4iG6xo0PNRVytr-XLXfaxF8rqhpNBHFBcMF-xMyY8UfhPYxgxLzqQFqNYbSNfVSFNYQa0vLEA8iwT0lTcZPsr24q5x2wAI5dojg8BGesuwtGsp2pBV1ZM4W2haA/s1600-h/2ujtmoy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqYpQaPuqOH7mL06Qf4iG6xo0PNRVytr-XLXfaxF8rqhpNBHFBcMF-xMyY8UfhPYxgxLzqQFqNYbSNfVSFNYQa0vLEA8iwT0lTcZPsr24q5x2wAI5dojg8BGesuwtGsp2pBV1ZM4W2haA/s400/2ujtmoy.jpg" /></a><br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">From http://leloveimage.blogspot.com </span></span><br /></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7958989963081389859.post-9483809520717674372009-09-17T10:54:00.011-03:002009-09-18T12:54:47.421-03:00The song, the band<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_-d1s55bYnbcIDo2HkBQFMV3XRGC_Ws8z-c9wmbKXw8Z7kcBsxhKoF5FYvPISsipsptte37Up2M24H8h5MN0_WWXJMzcSbimqa1Alfgy_wJ-wm64x-69Hxt_3Lr7QInQunlI5adnNQ9s/s1600-h/the-verve-urban-hymns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_-d1s55bYnbcIDo2HkBQFMV3XRGC_Ws8z-c9wmbKXw8Z7kcBsxhKoF5FYvPISsipsptte37Up2M24H8h5MN0_WWXJMzcSbimqa1Alfgy_wJ-wm64x-69Hxt_3Lr7QInQunlI5adnNQ9s/s320/the-verve-urban-hymns.jpg" /></a><br /></div>
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<div class="cor_2" id="cabecalho" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I love the songs from this album. Especially, "Lucky man".<b> </b> </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Lucky man </b><br /></span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Happiness </span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">More or less<br />
It's just a change in me<br />
Something in my liberty<br />
Oh my, my<br />
Happiness<br />
Coming and going<br />
I watch you look at me<br />
Watch my fever growing<br />
I know just where I am</span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">But how many corners do I have to turn?<br />
How many times do I have to learn?<br />
All the love I have is in my mind?</span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Well, I'm a lucky man<br />
With fire in my hands</span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Happiness<br />
Something in my own place<br />
I'm standing naked<br />
Smiling, I feel no disgrace<br />
With who I am</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
Happiness<br />
Coming and going<br />
I watch you look at me<br />
Watch my fever growing<br />
I know just who I am</span><br />
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">But how many corners do I have to turn?<br />
How many times do I have to learn?<br />
All the love I have is in my mind?</span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I hope you understand<br />
I hope you understand</span><br />
<br />
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<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Gotta love that'll never die</span><br />
<br />
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<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Happiness<br />
More or less<br />
It's just a change in me<br />
Something in my liberty<br />
Happiness<br />
Coming and going<br />
I watch you look at me<br />
Watch my fever growing<br />
I know<br />
Oh my mind<br />
Oh my mind</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
Oh my mind<br />
Oh my mind<br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Gotta love that'll never die<br />
Gotta love that'll never die<br />
No, no<br />
I'm a lucky man</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">
It's just a change in me<br />
Something in my liberty<br />
It's just a change in me<br />
Something in my liberty<br />
It's just a change in me<br />
Something in my liberty<br />
Oh my mind<br />
Oh my mind<br />
It's just a change in me<br />
Something in my liberty<br />
Oh my mind<br />
Oh my mind<br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Richard Ashcroft</span><br /></div>
<span style="background-color: red;"></span><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7958989963081389859.post-37217871525270832562009-09-12T10:04:00.007-03:002009-10-02T16:15:40.008-03:00Crazy and Saints<div style="text-align: center;">
<link href="/css/spellcheck.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css"></link><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">I choose my friends</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">not by their skin or other archetype</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">but by the pupil.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">They have to have questioning</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">shine and unsetted tone.</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I'm not interested in the good spirits</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">or the ones with bad habits.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I'll stick with the ones</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">that are made of me being</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">From them,</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I don't want an answer,</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I want to be reviewed</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I want them to bring me doubts</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">and fears and to tolerate</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">the worst of me.</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">But that only being crazy</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I want saints,</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">so they dount doubt differences</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">and ask for forgiveness for injustices.</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I choose my friends</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">for their clean face</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">and their soul exposed</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I don't just want a man or a skirt</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I also want his greatest happiness.</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">A friend that doesn't laugh together</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">doesn´t know how to cry together.</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">All my friends are like that,</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">half foolish, half serious.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I don't want forseen</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">laughter or cries full of pity.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I want serious friends,</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">those that make reality</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">their fonutain of knowledge,</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">but that fight</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">to keep fantasy alive.</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I don't want adult</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">or boring friends.</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I want half kids</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">and half elderly</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Kids, so they don't forget the value</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">of the wind blowing</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">on their faces and elderly people</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">so they're never in a hurry.</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I have friends to know who I am.</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Then seeing them as clowns and serious,</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">crazy and saints,</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">young and old,</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I will never forget that "normalcy"</span><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">is a steril and imbecil illusion.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br face="trebuchet ms" /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Oscar Wilde</span><br />
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</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7958989963081389859.post-27711746515608103932009-08-30T21:17:00.003-03:002009-09-18T09:38:11.593-03:00Road Not Taken by Robert Frost<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIcr8Y6oPmNCopTOUI8T9VCHtoUl2heOdgAhhADoI2pZ1xh49lUk5hJU1JgsaQWRs_lrfb1O5U3kZT7o7jeaktmsYMFv5WAVTrUNupkv4EkSIcG4xZy-xVUFskT-nzpI-l5RVb1FF7Sc8/s1600-h/chantillycezanne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIcr8Y6oPmNCopTOUI8T9VCHtoUl2heOdgAhhADoI2pZ1xh49lUk5hJU1JgsaQWRs_lrfb1O5U3kZT7o7jeaktmsYMFv5WAVTrUNupkv4EkSIcG4xZy-xVUFskT-nzpI-l5RVb1FF7Sc8/s320/chantillycezanne.jpg" /></a><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Road at Chantilly" by Paul Cézanne</span> </span><b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></b></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
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<div style="color: black; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,<br />
And sorry I could not travel both<br />
And be one traveler, long I stood <br />
And looked down one as far as I could</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
To where it bent in the undergrowth; </span> <br />
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<div style="color: black; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> Then took the other, as just as fair<br />
And having perhaps the better claim,<br />
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;</span><br />
</div>
<div style="color: black; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
Though as for that, the passing there<br />
Had worn them really about the same, </span> <br />
</div>
<div style="color: black; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> And both that morning equally lay<br />
In leaves no step had trodden black</span><br />
</div>
<div style="color: black; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
Oh, I kept the first for another day!<br />
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,<br />
I doubted if I should ever come back. </span> <br />
</div>
<div style="color: black; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> I shall be telling this with a sigh</span><br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="color: black;">Somewhere ages and ages hence:</span><br style="color: black;" /><span style="color: black;"> two roads diverged in a wood, and I </span><br style="color: black;" /><span style="color: black;"> I took the one less traveled by,</span><br style="color: black;" /><span style="color: black;"> And that has made all the difference. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
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<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Robert Lee Frost</b></span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;"> (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963) was an American poet. He is highly regarded for his realistic depictions of rural life and his command of American colloquial speech.</span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;"> His work frequently employed settings from rural life in New England in the early twentieth century, using them to examine complex social and philosophical themes.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0