Louis - You know very well. You’re playing with fire.
Sibella - At least it warms me.
Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta Citações. Mostrar todas as mensagens
Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta Citações. Mostrar todas as mensagens
13/04/11
Kind Hearts and Coronets
Sibella - What am I doing?
Louis - You know very well. You’re playing with fire.
Sibella - At least it warms me.
Louis - You know very well. You’re playing with fire.
Sibella - At least it warms me.
09/03/11
Willow Tree
Sleep all day
Just waiting for the sun to set
I hang my clothes
Up on the line
When I die
I'll hang my head beside the willow tree
When I'm dead
Is when I'll be free
And you can take my body
Put it in a boat
Light it on fire
You can use the kerosene
Take my body
Put it in a boat
Light it on fire
Send it out to sea
Just waiting for the sun to set
I hang my clothes
Up on the line
When I die
I'll hang my head beside the willow tree
When I'm dead
Is when I'll be free
And you can take my body
Put it in a boat
Light it on fire
You can use the kerosene
Take my body
Put it in a boat
Light it on fire
Send it out to sea
22/02/11
Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf
Martha: Truth or illusion, George; you don't know the difference.
George: No, but we must carry on as though we did.
Martha: Amen.
George: No, but we must carry on as though we did.
Martha: Amen.
19/02/11
The Definition of Love - by Ryan O'Connell
You can stop taking quizzes in Cosmo. Here’s what love really is.
Love is still wanting to hold someone after you climax. After the initial euphoria from the orgasm wears off, you’re replaced with a sense of calm rather than a panic. You don’t want to search for your clothes, scramble to find your keys and figure out the best way to tell them, “See ya later forever!” You’re fine with chilling out in bed with the person and maybe ordering pad thai later.
Love is unattractive. It can expose our worst traits: Jealousy, irrational fears, heated anger; the gang’s all here! While it can bring out compassion and tenderness, it can also make you behave like the ugliest version of yourself. That can be okay for a little while, but love with real longevity should be like a xanax rather than an adderall.
Love is not afraid to be schmaltzy. There’s a reason why the most popular love songs are so lyrically simple. You can drown it in metaphors all you want but love usually boils down to, “You make me so happy. I want to hold your hand. I just want u 2 be mine 4ever!” You can be a 50-year-old linguistics professor at Columbia University and still find something to relate to in a Mariah Carey ballad if you’re in love because the feelings are so universal. It’s humbling, isn’t it? No matter who you are or what your background is, love can reduce you to Mariah Carey mush.
(...)
Love is getting drunk with your significant other at a party and taking a cab home with your bodies intertwined. You feel safest in these moments, the most secure. Entering a social gathering with someone who loves you is the biggest security blanket. People leave the party as a parade of droopy expressions and sad cocktail dresses. But not you. “Sorry guys, I’m in love! I’m taking a car!”
Love is fucking stupid. Love is fucking smart. Love is about betraying yourself, of compromising your ideals for someone else’s approval. That’s actually the bad kind of love, but I guess it all blurs together when you’re young or when you’re old or when you don’t love yourself.
Love is your significant other telling you about their favorite album and then making a point to fall in love with it on your own. Love is wondering why your better half loves certain things. You think you can find remnants of them in their favorite films, books and songs, but you usually can’t.
Love is finding yourself feeling protective over someone else’s well-being Love is being incensed with rage when someone or something has done your lover wrong.
Love is wanting your partner to cum. And if they can’t, just say, “That’s okay. I’m enjoying this.” It might be bullshit, but they’ll be orgasming in the next five minutes. Trust me.
Love isn’t always marriage. Marriage is spending $60,000 so everyone can know that someone loves you. You know what’s certainly not love? Debt. In some cases, love can be divorce.
Love is a back massage, a mindfuck, a hard cock, a pair of perfect breasts, of feeling unashamed about the cellulite on your body. Love is someone giving a shit about you enough to argue. Love is not passive. Love is “Don’t fucking touch me right now.” Love is “Who the FUCK were you talking to?” Love is sometimes hating yourself for a second. Love is hate. Period. Indifference is the real killer of love and the true antithesis.
When love leaves you, you should be lying on your bathroom floor with no resolve. You’re smoking cigarettes in the bathtub and crying about everything bad that’s ever happened.
Love is someone seeing the beauty in you and wanting to bask in it every day all day. Love is not guaranteed. We are not owed love. That’s why when we get it, we know how lucky we are and hold on to it for dear life.
So, yeah. That’s what love is. Anyone know where to get some?
Love is still wanting to hold someone after you climax. After the initial euphoria from the orgasm wears off, you’re replaced with a sense of calm rather than a panic. You don’t want to search for your clothes, scramble to find your keys and figure out the best way to tell them, “See ya later forever!” You’re fine with chilling out in bed with the person and maybe ordering pad thai later.
Love is unattractive. It can expose our worst traits: Jealousy, irrational fears, heated anger; the gang’s all here! While it can bring out compassion and tenderness, it can also make you behave like the ugliest version of yourself. That can be okay for a little while, but love with real longevity should be like a xanax rather than an adderall.
Love is not afraid to be schmaltzy. There’s a reason why the most popular love songs are so lyrically simple. You can drown it in metaphors all you want but love usually boils down to, “You make me so happy. I want to hold your hand. I just want u 2 be mine 4ever!” You can be a 50-year-old linguistics professor at Columbia University and still find something to relate to in a Mariah Carey ballad if you’re in love because the feelings are so universal. It’s humbling, isn’t it? No matter who you are or what your background is, love can reduce you to Mariah Carey mush.
(...)
Love is getting drunk with your significant other at a party and taking a cab home with your bodies intertwined. You feel safest in these moments, the most secure. Entering a social gathering with someone who loves you is the biggest security blanket. People leave the party as a parade of droopy expressions and sad cocktail dresses. But not you. “Sorry guys, I’m in love! I’m taking a car!”
Love is fucking stupid. Love is fucking smart. Love is about betraying yourself, of compromising your ideals for someone else’s approval. That’s actually the bad kind of love, but I guess it all blurs together when you’re young or when you’re old or when you don’t love yourself.
Love is your significant other telling you about their favorite album and then making a point to fall in love with it on your own. Love is wondering why your better half loves certain things. You think you can find remnants of them in their favorite films, books and songs, but you usually can’t.
Love is finding yourself feeling protective over someone else’s well-being Love is being incensed with rage when someone or something has done your lover wrong.
Love is wanting your partner to cum. And if they can’t, just say, “That’s okay. I’m enjoying this.” It might be bullshit, but they’ll be orgasming in the next five minutes. Trust me.
Love isn’t always marriage. Marriage is spending $60,000 so everyone can know that someone loves you. You know what’s certainly not love? Debt. In some cases, love can be divorce.
Love is a back massage, a mindfuck, a hard cock, a pair of perfect breasts, of feeling unashamed about the cellulite on your body. Love is someone giving a shit about you enough to argue. Love is not passive. Love is “Don’t fucking touch me right now.” Love is “Who the FUCK were you talking to?” Love is sometimes hating yourself for a second. Love is hate. Period. Indifference is the real killer of love and the true antithesis.
When love leaves you, you should be lying on your bathroom floor with no resolve. You’re smoking cigarettes in the bathtub and crying about everything bad that’s ever happened.
Love is someone seeing the beauty in you and wanting to bask in it every day all day. Love is not guaranteed. We are not owed love. That’s why when we get it, we know how lucky we are and hold on to it for dear life.
So, yeah. That’s what love is. Anyone know where to get some?
02/02/11
The Girl from Monday
You had to want in order to be wanted.
You had to be wanted in order to survive.
19/01/11
Do not stand at my grave and weep
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave bereft
I am not there. I have not left.
Mary Frye
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave bereft
I am not there. I have not left.
Mary Frye
12/01/11
11/12/10
Sing
Sing for the bartender sing for the janitor sing
Sing for the cameras sing for the animals sing
Sing for the children shooting the children sing
Sing for the teachers who told you that you couldn't sing.
04/12/10
10/11/10
Ilegal
- Where... did that come from? And why was it so damn good?
- Because it was illegal.
Breaking Bad, s01
03/11/10
31/10/10
No White Clouds
They say F R E E D O M
is the answer to a question you don't have to ask...
22/10/10
14/10/10
10/10/10
30/08/10
29/08/10
The Prince and The Night
«The prince went slowly through the forest. His beautiful horse was silent. The sky was taking on the color of roses. "Will I be in time?" the prince wondered. He remembered what the magician had told him - "Night is your only enemy."»
09/06/10
Os Oito Versos Para Treinar A Mente, por Geshe Langri Tangpa
Com a determinação de alcançar
O bem supremo de todos os seres sencientes,
Mais preciosos do que uma jóia mágica que realiza desejos,
Vou aprender a prezá-los com a maior estima.
Sempre que estiver na companhia de outras pessoas, vou aprender
A pensar em mim como a mais insignificante de entre elas,
E, com todo respeito, considerá-las supremas,
Do fundo do meu coração.
Em todos os meus actos, vou aprender a examinar a minha mente
E, sempre que surgir uma emoção negativa,
Pondo-me em risco a mim mesmo e aos outros,
Vou, com firmeza, enfrentá-la e evitá-la.
Vou prezar os seres que têm natureza perversa
E aqueles que são oprimidos por fortes negatividades e sofrimentos,
Como se eu tivesse encontrado um tesouro precioso,
Muito difícil de encontrar.
Quando os outros, por inveja, maltratarem a minha pessoa,
Ou a insultarem e caluniarem,
Vou aprender a tomar como minha a derrota,
E a eles oferecer a vitória.
Quando alguém a quem ajudei com grande esperança
Magoar ou ferir a minha pessoa, mesmo sem motivo,
Vou aprender a ver essa outra pessoa
Como um excelente guia espiritual.
Em suma, vou aprender a oferecer a todos, sem excepção,
Toda a ajuda e felicidade, por meios directos e indirectos,
E a tomar sobre mim, em sigilo,
Todos os males e sofrimentos daqueles que foram minhas mães.
Vou aprender a manter estas práticas
Isentas das máculas das oito preocupações mundanas,
E, ao compreender todos os fenómenos como ilusórios,
Serei libertado da escravidão do apego.
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