21/08/25
19/08/25
How do I love thee?
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
PS: em português, no Arpose, tradução de APS aqui
08/08/25
Because we don’t know when we will die, we get to think of
life as an inexhaustible well. Yet, everything happens only a certain number of
times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a
certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that’s so deeply a part of
your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four
or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch
the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.
Paul Bowles, "The Sheltering Sky"
«Si l'on n'avait pas d'âme, la musique l'aurait créée.» E.M.Cioran , "Oeuvres", Editions Gallimard, 1995,p.504
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BY ARTHUR O'SHAUGHNESSY We are the music-makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers And sitt...
