quarta-feira, 29 de julho de 2009

Ode to Cynthia

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep:
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright.

Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
Heaven to clear when day did close:
Bless us then with wishèd sight,
Goddess excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal-shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever:
Thou that mak'st a day of night
Goddess excellently bright.

[Ben Jonson 1572-1637]

terça-feira, 28 de julho de 2009

Banda Sonora III


Someone will call
Something will fall
And smash on the floor
Without reading the text
Know what comes next
Seen it before
And it's painful

Things must change
We must rearrange them
Or we'll have to estrange them
All that I'm saying
The game's not worth playing
Over and over again

You're the one I like best
You retain my interest
You're the only one
If it wasn't for you
Don't know what I'd do
Unpredictable like the sun
And the rainfall

Things must change
We must rearrange them
Or we'll have to estrange them
All that I'm saying
The game's not worth playing
Over and over again

[Depeche Mode - The Sun and the Rainfall]

segunda-feira, 27 de julho de 2009



E aos grandes cientistas e pensadores que passam a sua vida a tentar fazer-nos compreender como universo é grande e quão pequeno é cada um de nós só tenho uma coisa a dizer:

Pequeno? Sem Dúvida.
Ínfimo? É verdade.
Insignificante? Com certeza.

Mas acima de tudo Uma Parte deste fabuloso Universo. Essa certeza e esse orgulho nunca me conseguirão tirar.

[Luís R.]

domingo, 26 de julho de 2009

Citação III

"Dado que sou bastante mais inteligente que a maioria os meus erros tendem a ser proporcionalmente maiores"

[Albus Dumbledore]

quinta-feira, 23 de julho de 2009

Tiger

TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And, when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

[William Blake]