sexta-feira, 6 de novembro de 2009

Felix Felicis Infinitas Infinitio


In the day-to-day confusion
In the doubt that suffocates
In the anything pain
I found my path...

But the path only exists
when you pass through it...
Once you stop walking,
After staying and going,
Ill know the one who arrives
in order to be the one leaving..

And as thousand of stars
singular letters in the sky
A particular history is told...

And I try to read it just to know
What the voice of life has to say...




"Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old." & "Believing
in progress does not mean believing that any progress has yet been made." -
Franz Kafka




Listening to Dave Brubeck Quartet - "Blue Rondo A La Turk"

quinta-feira, 5 de novembro de 2009

Remember, Remember the 5th of November...


Remember, remember the fifth of November,
Gunpowder, treason, and plot,
I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, ’twas his intent
To blow up the King and Parliament.
Three score barrels of powder below,
Poor old England to overthrow;
By God’s providence he was catch’d
With a dark lantern and burning match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, make the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!
Hip hip hoorah!
A penny loaf to feed the Pope.
A farthing o’ cheese to choke him.
A pint of beer to rinse it down.
A faggot of sticks to burn him.
Burn him in a tub of tar.
Burn him like a blazing star.
Burn his body from his head.
Then we’ll say ol’ Pope is dead.
Hip hip hoorah!
Hip hip hoorah hoorah!

"Old English saying"



"If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once into the sky, that would be like the splendor of the mighty one." and "Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds." - Oppenheimer recalling Bhagavad Gita




Listening to Peter Bjorn & John - "Young Folks"

Donec Animus Libertas


After all were gone,
And also the day,
Were among the shadows
Of the alleys in the park
Me and my agony.

Party was for others.
And when it was gone
Were among the shadows
Of the tight alleys
Who I was and who I am.

Everything was to all.
Played, but in the end
Were among the shadows
Of the nightly alleys
Just me, and I without me.

Perhaps in the old park
A party returns to be.
Will be among the shadows
Of the sad alleys
I and who I know I`m not.




"A man's moral conscience is the curse he had to accept from the gods in order to gain from them the right to dream." - William Faulkner




Listening to Chet Baker & Stan Getz - Winter Wonderland