Porque é 5ª feira e porque é tão bom!

Stones é litúrgico?

Outra palavra para Orçamento de Estado?

Não tirem mas é o Gaspar do presépio que ainda nos rouba o Menino...

The Thief              

Thou robb'st my days of business and delights,
   Of sleep thou robb'st my nights ;
   Ah, lovely thief, what wilt thou do?
   What?  rob me of heaven too?
   Even in my prayers thou hauntest me:
   And I, with wild idolatry,
Begin to God, and end them all to thee.

Is it a sin to love, that it should thus
   Like an ill conscience torture us?
   Whate'er I do, where'er I go—
   None guiltless e'er was haunted so!—
   Still, still, methinks, thy face I view,
   And still thy shape does me pursue,
As if, not you me, but I had murdered you.

From books I strive some remedy to take,
   But thy name all the letters make;
   Whate'er 'tis writ, I find thee there,
   Like points and commas everywhere.
   Me blessed for this let no man hold,
   For I, as Midas did of old,
Perish by turning every thing to gold.

What do I seek, alas, or why do I
   Attempt in vain from thee to fly?
   For, making thee my deity,
   I gave thee then ubiquity.
   My pains resemble hell in this:
   The divine presence there too is,
But to torment men, not to give them bliss.

Abraham Cowley

o menino que gaspar não conhece... mas devia conhecer, digo eu.

Supermercado do centro comercial das Amoreiras, fim da tarde de terça-feira. Uma jovem mãe, acompanhada do filho com seis anos, está a pagar algumas compras que fez: leite, manteiga, fiambre, detergentes e mais alguns produtos.

Quando chega ao fim, a empregada da caixa revela: são 84 euros. A mãe tem um sobressalto, olha para o dinheiro que traz na mão e diz: vou ter de deixar algumas coisas. Só tenho 70 euros.

Começa a pôr de lado vários produtos e vai perguntando à empregada da caixa se já chega. Não, ainda não. Ainda falta. Mais uma coisa. Outra. Ainda é preciso mais? É. Então este pacote de bolachas também fica.

Aí o menino agarra na manga do casaco da mãe e fala: Mamã, as bolachas não, as bolachas não. São as que eu levo para a escola. A mãe, meio envergonhada até porque a fila por trás dela começava a engrossar, responde: tem de ser, meu filho. E o menino de lágrima no canto do olho a insistir: mamã, as bolachas não. As bolachas não.

O momento embaraçoso é quebrado pela senhora atrás da jovem mãe. Quanto são as bolachas, pergunta à empregada da caixa. Ponha na minha conta. O menino sorriu. Mas foi um sorriso muito envergonhado. A mãe agradeceu ainda mais envergonhada. A pobreza de quem nunca pensou que um dia ia ser pobre enche de vergonha e pudor os que a sofrem.

Tenho a certeza que o ministro Vítor Gaspar não conhece este menino, o que seria obviamente muito improvável. Mas desconfio que o ministro Vítor Gaspar não conhece nenhuns meninos que estejam a passar pela mesma situação. Ou se conhece considera que esse é o preço a pagar pela famoso ajustamento. É isso que é muito preocupante. 

Ler mais: http://expresso.sapo.pt/o-menino-que-gaspar-nao-conhece=f768572#ixzz2Cu3aC7EJ

Letras Perfeitas II

"Stay With Me"

Where did you go when things went wrong, baby?
Who did you run to?
Find a shoulder to lay your head upon.
Baby, wasn't I there?
Didn't I take good care of you?
But, oh, no. I can't believe you're leaving me, yeah.

Stay with me, baby.
I'm beggin' you to stay with me, baby.
Yeah, stay with me, baby.
I can't go on.

Who did you touch when you needed tenderness, baby?
I gave you so much,
and in return I found happiness.
Baby, what could I do?
Maybe I was too good, too good to you.
Ohh, no, I can't believe you're leavin' me.
Oh, oh, oh.

Oh, stay with me, baby.
Why don't you, why don't you just stay with me, baby?
Yeah, stay with me, baby.
Remember, you said you always gonna love me.
Remember, you said you'd never ever leave me.
Remember, remember, I'm asking you, begging you.
Oh, oh, oh.

Oh, stay with me, baby, baby, baby.
Why don't you stay with me, baby?
Stay with me, baby.
I can't, I can't go, oh, on.

"Well, I'm a young woman, and I could get plenty of men.
But honey, keepin' 'em's the hard part, ain't it?
Yeah. Sometimes, sometimes I find I try so hard."

Maybe this time I should be the one to go away.
'Cause honey, ain't it my turn to have somebody
grab hold of me and say,
"No! Don't go! You can't go!"

Oh! Stay, stay with me, baby.
I'm begging you, stay with me.
Stay with me, baby.
I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, stay with me, baby.
Why don't you stay with me, baby?
Stay with me, baby.
I can't, I can't go on.

Porque o mundo é maravilhoso!

1 oração na palma da mão

A pedido de muitas famílias unipessoais

Ai se eu fosse ela...

Letras perfeitas!

Into my arms

I don't believe in an interventionist God
But I know, darling, that you do
But if I did I would kneel down and ask Him
Not to intervene when it came to you
Not to touch a hair on your head
To leave you as you are
And if He felt He had to direct you
Then direct you into my arms

Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms

And I don't believe in the existence of angels
But looking at you I wonder if that's true
But if I did I would summon them together
And ask them to watch over you
To each burn a candle for you
To make bright and clear your path
And to walk, like Christ, in grace and love
And guide you into my arms

Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms

And I believe in Love
And I know that you do too
And I believe in some kind of path
That we can walk down, me and you
So keep your candles burning
And make her journey bright and pure
That she will keep returning
Always and evermore

Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms

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