C'è

	Una corrente sottomarina / gli spolpò le ossa in bisbigli.
	Come affiorava e affondava / Traversò gli stadi dell'età matura e della giovinezza / Entrando nel vortice.

	deathbywater, nel mondo reale Lorenzo profilo contatta amico nemico gallery

03 Agosto 2011

C'è

una bella denuncia a tuo carico. Io se fossi in te la smetterei immediatamente

Scritto alle 02:03:45 | Nessun commento | Nuovo commento

Vai alla home di questo BLOG Segnala un abuso nel post

Trascende ogni mio controllo

1. The widest prairies have electric fences (...) Electirc limits to OUR widest senses.
2. Oh, pensa Virginia, appena prima del tè, ecco la morte.
3. Fool, said my muse to me / Look in thy heart and write.
4. Non temere la vampa del sole / nè del furioso inverno le tempeste.
5. Que le jour recommence ou que le jour finisse / Sans que jamais Titus puisse voir Bérénice, / Sans que de tout le jour je puisse voir Titus.

Aborro

1. Ceux qui n'apprecient pas la beauté.
2. Ceux qui jettent l'amour n'importe où n'importe quand.
3. Moi qui ai jeté l'amour, honte à moi.
4. Ceux qui jouent un role pendant toute leur vie et qui ne savent pas que la vie n'est pas un plateau de théatre.
5. Everybody who does not think that life is not about nightingales.

Sono sempre e soltanto connessioni

Une Vague de reves

Going To The Movies

Femme/Piano

BARBARA

-"Mais si s'endormir c'est mourir, ah laissez-moi mes insomnies /

J'aime mieux vivre en enfer que de mourir en paradis."

- "Mais j'ai tout essayé, je fais semblant de croire /

Et je reviens de loin, et mon soleil est noir.

Mais j'ai tout essayé et vous pouvez me croire /

Je reviens fatiguée et j'ai le désespoir."

- "Pourquoi suis-je donc revenue, seule au detour de ces rues /

J'ai froid, j'ai peur le soir se penche.

Pourquoi suis-je revenue ici où mon passé me crucifie /

Elle dort à jamais mon enfance."

- "On fait tous la meme prière, on fait tous le meme chemin /

Qu'il est long quand on doit le faire, avec son mal au creux des reins."

Femme/Stylo

VIRGINIA WOOLF

For having lived in Westminster--how many years now? over twenty,--one feels even in the midst of the traffic, or waking at night, Clarissa was positive, a particular hush, or solemnity; an indescribable pause; a suspense (but that might be her heart, affected, they said, by influenza) before Big Ben strikes. There! Out it boomed. First a warning, musical; then the hour, irrevocable. The leaden circles dissolved in the air. Such fools we are, she thought, crossing Victoria Street. For Heaven only knows why one loves it so, how one sees it so, making it up, building it round one, tumbling it, creating it every moment afresh; but the veriest frumps, the most dejected of miseries sitting on doorsteps (drink their downfall) do the same; can't be dealt with, she felt positive, by Acts of Parliament for that very reason: they love life. In people's eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June.