domingo, 19 de abril de 2009

How do I take it back? How do I do it better? How do I find myself?
How do I kill the regret inside me... I wish I could predict the future...

I can't stand being lost, it's been too long, it's hurt too much...
How do I find it all out? How do I sort it all over?
What am I gonna do? How am I gonna be, what am I gonna feel?

terça-feira, 7 de abril de 2009

Kipling - If

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:


If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son

segunda-feira, 6 de abril de 2009

Homo mobilis

Dentro de toda pedra há uma escultura esperando para ser libertada. Guto Pompéia.

domingo, 5 de abril de 2009

Nick and Norah's infinite playlist

"I shouldn't want the song to end. I always think of each night as a song, or each moment as a song. But now I'm seeing we don't live in a single song. We move foward from song to song, from lyric to lyric, from chord to chord! There is no ending here, it's an infinite playlist!
...
We are the ones who take this thing called music and line up with this thing called time. We are the ticking, the pulsing, we are underneath every part of this moment. And by making this moment our own, we are rendering timeless. There is no audience, there are no instruments. There are only bodies and thoughts and murmurs and looks. It's the concert rush to end all concert rushes, because this is what matters. When the heart races; this is what it's racing towards!"

Trecho do livro Nick and Norah Infinite Playlist (Nick and Norah uma Noite de Amor e Música)

Celina buscando sentido pra vida.

sexta-feira, 3 de abril de 2009

Quidam

You world is yours
not mine, Quidam.
Your dreams are yours.
You may have touched the stars
but they weren't moved.
And if you reach for me
I may not choose
to hold your hand.
I might smile
or I might turn away.

An ordinary man, Quidam.
I'm everyman.
I'm anyman.

Quidam, Quidam
la nuit recule.
D'un rêve à l'autre tu valses.
Du creux de toi
c'est bien le mal
qui dresse tes silences.

There's nothing left.
There's nothing right.
There's nothing wrong.
I'm one. I'm two.
I'm all yet none of you.
The truth the lie,
the tear, the laughter,
the hand and the empty touch.
Here I am alone
waiting for the curtain to fall.

An ordinary man, Quidam.
I'm everyman. T'es l'inconnu.
I'm anyman. T'es l'étranger.

Quidam, Quidam
la nuit recule.
D'un rêve à l'autre tu valses.
Du creux de toi
c'est bien le mal
qui dresse tes silences.

Bailo en este lienzo de dolor.
Funàmbulo sin mapa ni brùjula.
La dulce locura mi sòlo refugio.
Nazco en la sombra del payaso.

Quidam, Quidam
la nuit recule.
D'un rêve à l'autre tu valses.
Du creux de toi
c'est bien le mal
qui dresse tes silences.

Quidam, Quidam
aux rives du rêve.
Au seuil de l'ombre, tu valses.
Autour de toi
c'est bien le mal
qui dresses tes silences.

Quidam, Quidam
la nuit recule.
D'un rêve à l'autre tu valses.
Du creux de toi
c'est bien le mal
qui dresse tes silences



Quidam... saudades! Still waiting for te curtain fall!