tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75810118905489655292024-03-13T02:34:43.227-03:00THE SCRAPBOOK"I have spread my dreams beneath your feet;/
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams...“ W.B. Yeats.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comBlogger13600125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-59703812662401086492011-12-25T08:30:00.000-02:002011-12-25T08:30:44.913-02:00A new blog<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://mycolorbook.tumblr.com/">Color Book</a></span></strong><br />
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I will be posting here until I decide what to do with this one.<br />
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Happy Holidays!!!:-)))<br />
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S.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-69659959156259767932011-12-20T07:22:00.000-02:002011-12-20T07:22:33.820-02:00ChangesThis blog will go through some changes soon, so there won´t be any updates at least until mid-January. Meanwhile, you can follow my Facebook page - see link on the right.<br />
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Thank you all!<br />
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:-)<br />
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S.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-7687041695690558452011-12-17T07:13:00.000-02:002011-12-17T07:13:18.281-02:00I will be silent for a while....It is not what I expected Santa to bring me this year. Only yesterday I almost bought an external hard drive, giving up at the last minute. Had I bought it, this would not have happened.<br />
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My pen drived just crashed. It is not the worst that could happen to anyone, but lost EVERYTHING that was in there - personal files, my writings, ebook collection, my image collection.... including the ones I used to post here daily. I spent years gathering all that and now it us gone It had been a while since I backed up some of it, so it is amazing how much data I lost. Only last week I deleted my entire collection of vintage postcards from my computer in order to free some memory space... Now it is all gone.<br />
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I will have to start all over again and it won´t be easy, I am not even sure I can. I will not abandon this blog, but I will probably be silent for a while.<br />
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Thank you all!<br />
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Wish me luck!<br />
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:-)<br />
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SandraAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-75256914757218751852011-12-17T06:18:00.000-02:002011-12-17T06:18:02.353-02:00Hard to plan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRs2F9lH5ibXyiNR3IKkyvTuarf22gkrHJwkDvuSD-3Cg2RGMYi8d8gn3WTh9LLxC41TkeLQJ0j57MTQHZQkSgV9zo2-ofyt9gNu-FiZgKv2KkVJCeU_oo6Ct_ZIOKdJ02gKldR0_N1Y/s1600/_____________________mtrattore_rosso_naif.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRs2F9lH5ibXyiNR3IKkyvTuarf22gkrHJwkDvuSD-3Cg2RGMYi8d8gn3WTh9LLxC41TkeLQJ0j57MTQHZQkSgV9zo2-ofyt9gNu-FiZgKv2KkVJCeU_oo6Ct_ZIOKdJ02gKldR0_N1Y/s320/_____________________mtrattore_rosso_naif.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div>If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.<br />
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E.B. WhiteAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-16757563618525902552011-12-17T06:16:00.000-02:002011-12-17T06:16:44.737-02:00Memories<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioLGys1_7q_-lRcY4ZGS0UipVfYDyFQk_EYGksGxwijE-CcSQMvQ9np6avhrMwaEGkSHmxdTtF7BN77sXwk0rsVhMBda8GJV1aj7QFgtBdba_b0-H4_pql17r_UBnF7jnD0uL_2vUPu68/s1600/___________________Ortiz_Francisco_Pradilla_Patos_En_Un_Estanque_1919_Oil_on_Canvas-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="116px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioLGys1_7q_-lRcY4ZGS0UipVfYDyFQk_EYGksGxwijE-CcSQMvQ9np6avhrMwaEGkSHmxdTtF7BN77sXwk0rsVhMBda8GJV1aj7QFgtBdba_b0-H4_pql17r_UBnF7jnD0uL_2vUPu68/s320/___________________Ortiz_Francisco_Pradilla_Patos_En_Un_Estanque_1919_Oil_on_Canvas-large.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: right;">“And still it is not enough to have memories. One must be able to forget them when they are many, and one must have the great patience to wait until they come again. For it is not yet the memories themselves. Not until they have turned to blood within us, to glance, to gesture, nameless and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves—not until then can it happen that in a most rare hour the first word of a verse arises in their midst and goes forth from them.” </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;">Rainer Maria Rilke</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-59463616190687071172011-12-17T06:14:00.000-02:002011-12-17T06:14:32.058-02:00The best<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivRJr0dgfXIgQ-s_Tv3F4FwXADtO3L9TOzsYUx9Fs8amQrwUECCWDQziQkgEOtEvOgvWBq3l6SHUgVIA9UOB02F9Qq31j40FqwaMVt48FNWB2XynhoEIEY_TmIoBXpzOx3FHfD-hjURfc/s1600/___________________________Martin_Kavel_Francois_Jeune_Femme_en_Deshabille_Oil_on_Canvas-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivRJr0dgfXIgQ-s_Tv3F4FwXADtO3L9TOzsYUx9Fs8amQrwUECCWDQziQkgEOtEvOgvWBq3l6SHUgVIA9UOB02F9Qq31j40FqwaMVt48FNWB2XynhoEIEY_TmIoBXpzOx3FHfD-hjURfc/s320/___________________________Martin_Kavel_Francois_Jeune_Femme_en_Deshabille_Oil_on_Canvas-large.jpg" width="226px" /></a></div>“I always deserve the best treatment because I never put up with any other.” <br />
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Jane AustenAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-1471754039011375172011-12-17T06:13:00.000-02:002011-12-17T06:13:30.305-02:00Looking out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqwI3mgZKoOU2m-cdKVw18nyqRPt0R29MCdisWypk9epQIVMWY9CJyv9_vAkQvpcoCzxiOZnrahs9HveLzzM1GYoRQzQ9tBGh40hCUhLxdjkf-5qWscrWylEOkWEIwOjjxE55TYBWz7aU/s1600/___________________robinson14+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqwI3mgZKoOU2m-cdKVw18nyqRPt0R29MCdisWypk9epQIVMWY9CJyv9_vAkQvpcoCzxiOZnrahs9HveLzzM1GYoRQzQ9tBGh40hCUhLxdjkf-5qWscrWylEOkWEIwOjjxE55TYBWz7aU/s320/___________________robinson14+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;">“In looking out upon the universe, we forget that the universe is looking at itself.” </div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;">Alan Watts </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-69343075377692303572011-12-17T06:12:00.000-02:002011-12-17T06:12:05.063-02:00My favorite feeling in the world<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF-MqVOzDGL58p2TmFUFYTYScQiSbnePq8wkbPMJvkCAGksaTCI5ZI3R43CVflGyPEM8hMpTexyRx_H3LxdeYD4TC_vjsWmbxECXxF-5xg1unc7jhaDj0oENGirnTD1TdNAJIGfZ5JjJc/s1600/_____________________la_procession_orientale-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF-MqVOzDGL58p2TmFUFYTYScQiSbnePq8wkbPMJvkCAGksaTCI5ZI3R43CVflGyPEM8hMpTexyRx_H3LxdeYD4TC_vjsWmbxECXxF-5xg1unc7jhaDj0oENGirnTD1TdNAJIGfZ5JjJc/s320/_____________________la_procession_orientale-large.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>“I go back to the reading room, where I sink down in the sofa and into the world of The Arabian Nights. Slowly, like a movie fadeout, the real world evaporates. I’m alone, inside the world of the story. My favorite feeling in the world.” </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Haruki Murakami</strong></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-65823508203645250702011-12-17T06:07:00.000-02:002011-12-17T06:07:35.872-02:00It does<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmq05bqZqgUVycLxToO82w_UnzpB4YNBjO0jKrip2pg6PCtGYzqALoODodNzJtrDcukkXBwHjQV0DzEGfJhNQNrwGJyEurjhgFwEuKDwlT3jLNNgZ38wrKXo0XxNaetJ2eThb8efmg1o8/s1600/_____________________the_property_room-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmq05bqZqgUVycLxToO82w_UnzpB4YNBjO0jKrip2pg6PCtGYzqALoODodNzJtrDcukkXBwHjQV0DzEGfJhNQNrwGJyEurjhgFwEuKDwlT3jLNNgZ38wrKXo0XxNaetJ2eThb8efmg1o8/s320/_____________________the_property_room-large.jpg" width="232px" /></a></div>“Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does.” <br />
<br />
William JamesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-12518679861163731132011-12-17T06:04:00.000-02:002011-12-17T06:04:02.567-02:00Within<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmn27riUu704i28Bxa80gr_MXfowKEyU9vbunUCewYDALMbA_uaa78u2J5TNRVDhIM__qYHEPA3USUifNfuo5L4a2GdWFRRpMsXAeHItbRCryhkbOvsK4HGEcTSht1wtXmuHl7fRvaEXg/s1600/______________________marc16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmn27riUu704i28Bxa80gr_MXfowKEyU9vbunUCewYDALMbA_uaa78u2J5TNRVDhIM__qYHEPA3USUifNfuo5L4a2GdWFRRpMsXAeHItbRCryhkbOvsK4HGEcTSht1wtXmuHl7fRvaEXg/s320/______________________marc16.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;">“What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us are tiny matters compared to what lives within us.” </div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;">Henry David Thoreau</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-75253133243469230562011-12-17T06:02:00.000-02:002011-12-17T06:02:42.933-02:00When you sell a man a book<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhY1to8uHwPwTs8_rBG_mE_f2CWamNmzDE1lpNCQhgHkAUdAWccJioH0XoBydHTYFUnbqoktm5FItzT9fzpYpfVZSadiCNzDj5L8zGXSWU0VPDvvoLjEEcMDpP4InR40NBG3f3Nh2WX5o/s1600/__________________still_life_with_le_figaro-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhY1to8uHwPwTs8_rBG_mE_f2CWamNmzDE1lpNCQhgHkAUdAWccJioH0XoBydHTYFUnbqoktm5FItzT9fzpYpfVZSadiCNzDj5L8zGXSWU0VPDvvoLjEEcMDpP4InR40NBG3f3Nh2WX5o/s320/__________________still_life_with_le_figaro-large.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div>“When you sell a man a book you don’t sell just twelve ounces of paper and ink and glue - you sell him a whole new life. Love and friendship and humour and ships at sea by night - there’s all heaven and earth in a book, a real book.” <br />
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Christopher MorleyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-12202772540485454182011-12-17T05:53:00.000-02:002011-12-17T05:53:53.158-02:00Fool<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFo58N4MQ1rHAH8oXiUwh6bZqUOQiOjgNYSBBb1AsNSSEUpz9K_teA3UrRChi44AcXAkAmAMa-VgFQj-HEcrc_OWNXYPWf743JoAtUlgbDDT-1O-ukQwZ6W7MdAVLGVUSGvgsjwXREk8/s1600/_______________________mcarro_fieno_naif.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFo58N4MQ1rHAH8oXiUwh6bZqUOQiOjgNYSBBb1AsNSSEUpz9K_teA3UrRChi44AcXAkAmAMa-VgFQj-HEcrc_OWNXYPWf743JoAtUlgbDDT-1O-ukQwZ6W7MdAVLGVUSGvgsjwXREk8/s320/_______________________mcarro_fieno_naif.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: right;">Every fool finds a greater one to admire them.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;">Bioleau </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-36107195127049575982011-12-16T15:31:00.000-02:002011-12-16T15:31:34.179-02:00Misunderstood<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvciHpS6qYb6SLRel5BNfmvueasHkeTp3KMh3pZPoS0J5zmTIuSDtARhHYNChmIOshDuak4QnWf85LXm9boTqSfBewE26ktbDhYcc1FIWkhSHCoxRONkdrLrN8fz0EZlrUXqJbZroDec/s1600/______________________stewart6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvciHpS6qYb6SLRel5BNfmvueasHkeTp3KMh3pZPoS0J5zmTIuSDtARhHYNChmIOshDuak4QnWf85LXm9boTqSfBewE26ktbDhYcc1FIWkhSHCoxRONkdrLrN8fz0EZlrUXqJbZroDec/s320/______________________stewart6.jpg" width="241px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;">"Every deep thinker is more afraid of being understood than of being misunderstood." </div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;">Friedrich Nietzsche </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-7591916562398413702011-12-16T15:12:00.000-02:002011-12-16T15:12:19.427-02:00Knowing your darkness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuTlKhOz6vWA3bEK2ca09yew7SJc2EoLEZFJwt81QkOD2jnV6gYZ3M1CU2Ek18DvJivdcl1agNFrudDzjSBM6dBs4GYXafR8TK-VO8e82m-df-oOt-NSgmFFzJu-CCszExkCcyC0WUsu0/s1600/____________________________.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuTlKhOz6vWA3bEK2ca09yew7SJc2EoLEZFJwt81QkOD2jnV6gYZ3M1CU2Ek18DvJivdcl1agNFrudDzjSBM6dBs4GYXafR8TK-VO8e82m-df-oOt-NSgmFFzJu-CCszExkCcyC0WUsu0/s320/____________________________.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div>“Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.” <br />
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C.G. JungAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-3864772592012590292011-12-16T15:05:00.000-02:002011-12-16T15:05:05.537-02:00Sheltered<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_mgbbl7B-eu-x3CONZln8pjd8i1BkzBIHNHIYvSmbF8FRssCKv2HVSTLhGnoDck121V-WmRXHH2gMyz5gDNsrxP3jad9eXwKQgLr_M71e8mgJVPXtsse2yBAu81YOrVUudKdiZ0tZkJU/s1600/________________________.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_mgbbl7B-eu-x3CONZln8pjd8i1BkzBIHNHIYvSmbF8FRssCKv2HVSTLhGnoDck121V-WmRXHH2gMyz5gDNsrxP3jad9eXwKQgLr_M71e8mgJVPXtsse2yBAu81YOrVUudKdiZ0tZkJU/s320/________________________.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;">“You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book… or you take a trip… and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom: absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this or die like this without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken.” </div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;">Anaïs Nin </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-8437891860556478752011-12-16T14:56:00.000-02:002011-12-16T14:56:39.424-02:00Dwell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT5tATYtUHx6-AgV87z0HyH-H6D2vSyaaZl6gsyVp8tCERPLrxg45Jv2qMupn8S9Tfk5Vk09aAmDsCNVt3eIr9PCGgultu0FtEhJLdkgq6kGuX9jvtT6elhFirwSuF5MZEJdjOgw63hmM/s1600/_______________________Paradise_Terrestrials_Brueghel_Le_Jeune.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT5tATYtUHx6-AgV87z0HyH-H6D2vSyaaZl6gsyVp8tCERPLrxg45Jv2qMupn8S9Tfk5Vk09aAmDsCNVt3eIr9PCGgultu0FtEhJLdkgq6kGuX9jvtT6elhFirwSuF5MZEJdjOgw63hmM/s320/_______________________Paradise_Terrestrials_Brueghel_Le_Jeune.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div>“Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.” <br />
<br />
Marcus AureliusAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-82954810045311212332011-12-16T14:45:00.000-02:002011-12-16T14:45:03.435-02:00Infinitely stranger<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIeVrpwqHWI-DJa1xu20LShE9fMSnpVRDewTrkeQanT2w10TxcaFa3UfXRnMjKpBrWaNf8STEnuUTatcFkL0DLzHg1yNWRDexZNU3C9J7xBdjVXnBLn9Eodseq1LvfwHfkZKH7iTB2XJA/s1600/____________________.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIeVrpwqHWI-DJa1xu20LShE9fMSnpVRDewTrkeQanT2w10TxcaFa3UfXRnMjKpBrWaNf8STEnuUTatcFkL0DLzHg1yNWRDexZNU3C9J7xBdjVXnBLn9Eodseq1LvfwHfkZKH7iTB2XJA/s320/____________________.jpg" width="130px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;">“Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. We would not dare to conceive the things which are really mere commonplaces of existence. If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the roofs, and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the strange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, the wonderful chains of events, working through generations, and leading to the most outre results, it would make all fiction with its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and unprofitable.” </div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;">Sir Arthur Conan Doyle</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-4351909945741001362011-12-16T14:42:00.000-02:002011-12-16T14:42:06.606-02:00Memory<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI3uBRI0lmD07sdAEXItcbufxcZcP_G7-8oftXP0nyMeiFaP12etdso-BkgolomoeqGyCld1LFkjpURCokFeq9QV9Xf2UmjhzFWjB5MFN-ax5BTSci-UcoPoTNKrXMZQYdMti7bD9Ztd0/s1600/_________________________.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI3uBRI0lmD07sdAEXItcbufxcZcP_G7-8oftXP0nyMeiFaP12etdso-BkgolomoeqGyCld1LFkjpURCokFeq9QV9Xf2UmjhzFWjB5MFN-ax5BTSci-UcoPoTNKrXMZQYdMti7bD9Ztd0/s320/_________________________.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div>“Memory is a snare, pure and simple; it alters, it subtly rearranges the past to fit the present.” <br />
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Mario Vargas LlosaAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-32736398603390443562011-12-16T07:57:00.000-02:002011-12-16T07:57:11.125-02:00I Have Lived With Shades<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4K2jLDkDNvdoqUAQBF0AxakYekbHp_baz9hbhDFmIsollOC-OVQ1qEDjFtQynjUw0Q6gIv1hSmm-3mRPDtAWggXjS7qd9JJfjUAymtJI4okWZmqKPmPvSHht6e39PIb58X-yPRH967xM/s1600/____________________________.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4K2jLDkDNvdoqUAQBF0AxakYekbHp_baz9hbhDFmIsollOC-OVQ1qEDjFtQynjUw0Q6gIv1hSmm-3mRPDtAWggXjS7qd9JJfjUAymtJI4okWZmqKPmPvSHht6e39PIb58X-yPRH967xM/s320/____________________________.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>I</strong><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>I have lived with shades so long, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>And talked to them so oft, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Since forth from cot and croft </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>I went mankind among, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>That sometimes they </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>In their dim style </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Will pause awhile </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>To hear my say; </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>II </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>And take me by the hand, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>And lead me through their rooms </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>In the To-be, where Dooms </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Half-wove and shapeless stand: </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>And show from there </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>The dwindled dust </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>And rot and rust </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Of things that were. </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>III </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>"Now turn," spake they to me </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>One day: "Look whence we came, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>And signify his name </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Who gazes thence at thee." - </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>--"Nor name nor race </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Know I, or can," </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>I said, "Of man </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>So commonplace. </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>IV </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>"He moves me not at all; </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>I note no ray or jot </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Of rareness in his lot, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Or star exceptional. </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Into the dim </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Dead throngs around </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>He'll sink, nor sound </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Be left of him." </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>V </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>"Yet," said they, "his frail speech, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Hath accents pitched like thine - </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Thy mould and his define </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>A likeness each to each - </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>But go! Deep pain </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Alas, would be </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>His name to thee, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>And told in vain!" </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>"O memory, where is now my youth, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Who used to say that life was truth?" </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>"I saw him in a crumbled cot </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Beneath a tottering tree; </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>That he as phantom lingers there </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Is only known to me." </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>"O Memory, where is now my joy, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Who lived with me in sweet employ?" </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>"I saw him in gaunt gardens lone, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Where laughter used to be; </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>That he as phantom wanders there </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Is known to none but me." </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>"O Memory, where is now my hope, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Who charged with deeds my skill and scope?" </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>"I saw her in a tomb of tomes, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Where dreams are wont to be; </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>That she as spectre haunteth there </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Is only known to me." </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>"O Memory, where is now my faith, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>One time a champion, now a wraith?" </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>"I saw her in a ravaged aisle, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Bowed down on bended knee; </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>That her poor ghost outflickers there </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Is known to none but me." </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>"O Memory, where is now my love, </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>That rayed me as a god above?" </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>"I saw him by an ageing shape </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Where beauty used to be; </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>That his fond phantom lingers there </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Is only known to me." </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Thomas Hardy </strong></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-9346414763649677332011-12-16T07:51:00.000-02:002011-12-16T07:51:49.312-02:00Who ever desired each other as we do?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjc2IhUTWd3u3qhjQOV97mdi9rYXNMf7oSSqiS7-UHlI6oki13Uk2PBDsb1BH9R9xSZbl9Sw3d8YB0RXpEg-Cpr0tIWTJ_dNYvE8JPo5OPobglL3ev90YFrcFyq1VIbFh1r5Lred3ek-w/s1600/_____________________.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjc2IhUTWd3u3qhjQOV97mdi9rYXNMf7oSSqiS7-UHlI6oki13Uk2PBDsb1BH9R9xSZbl9Sw3d8YB0RXpEg-Cpr0tIWTJ_dNYvE8JPo5OPobglL3ev90YFrcFyq1VIbFh1r5Lred3ek-w/s320/_____________________.jpg" width="215px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Who ever desired each other as we do? Let us look</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>for the ancient ashes of hearts that burned,</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>and let our kisses touch there, one by one,</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>till the flower, disembodied, rises again.</strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Let us love that Desire that consumed its own fruit</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>and went down, aspect and power, into the earth:</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>We are its continuing light,</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>its indestructible, fragile seed </strong></div><strong><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></strong><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Pablo Neruda </strong></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-91455906013419637682011-12-16T07:49:00.000-02:002011-12-16T07:49:14.181-02:00Throw your dreams<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjffklADaFw3WbgKNJHWlkzn2TzulF33-15uDHMN2ofxRrYM7yP-1pNOzSnMgaG52_eZMEYgtn1P8O0V2IYKe6ZrNRTDeu1NcYEHzIXjwHL36ZPZUrIOYb5EqImls3vFM64PoDgrL9xFxg/s1600/______________________.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjffklADaFw3WbgKNJHWlkzn2TzulF33-15uDHMN2ofxRrYM7yP-1pNOzSnMgaG52_eZMEYgtn1P8O0V2IYKe6ZrNRTDeu1NcYEHzIXjwHL36ZPZUrIOYb5EqImls3vFM64PoDgrL9xFxg/s320/______________________.jpg" width="288px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;">Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;">Anais Nin</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-73849290748508979552011-12-16T07:46:00.000-02:002011-12-16T07:46:14.690-02:00Real<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiktXa5YKIE3E4TXib9QzbmoJyAlgS7Sbd4pTagZkW4HBxLkUIc13twPB_dVOckrgQWDy4bd4nkaFR4Xtr6v0GMw13cWko46lzdLhPZDiMf0pirhlR2RItT0d1G5PGcc-iIXGpUDf8dkU/s1600/_________________.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiktXa5YKIE3E4TXib9QzbmoJyAlgS7Sbd4pTagZkW4HBxLkUIc13twPB_dVOckrgQWDy4bd4nkaFR4Xtr6v0GMw13cWko46lzdLhPZDiMf0pirhlR2RItT0d1G5PGcc-iIXGpUDf8dkU/s320/_________________.jpg" width="258px" /></a></div>“Which of us has not felt that the character we are reading in the printed page is more real than the person standing beside us?” <br />
<br />
Cornelia FunkeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-70554468056088236932011-12-16T07:42:00.000-02:002011-12-16T07:42:33.702-02:00Apology<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqm2FF-xmJIu9kNHDcBAAK2ilcUQv1efE59XCZoB00cWB5Xs3XWZO_7oac7avpF4K2t5iPaZ7dElVLaWTXacPdPBTWXDM_SMk37B8LdOMP1WKl6C15_Q8o0vcOyLsoWp7IGwFW1FKyxQk/s1600/_________________________.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqm2FF-xmJIu9kNHDcBAAK2ilcUQv1efE59XCZoB00cWB5Xs3XWZO_7oac7avpF4K2t5iPaZ7dElVLaWTXacPdPBTWXDM_SMk37B8LdOMP1WKl6C15_Q8o0vcOyLsoWp7IGwFW1FKyxQk/s320/_________________________.png" width="259px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>I owe everything I am and everything I will ever be to books.</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Gary Paulsen </strong></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-79488671200945559812011-12-16T07:39:00.000-02:002011-12-16T07:39:03.557-02:00The cosmos is within us<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWTF_aVOH3sO5n25WNAEKIYwBXF9WBKDVaHlnh9NBByYA9OX1AdO8XaL-pAEo6A9t0lExgpwvIt-GaAtKS7Wzok0xMHcxB3yB8Oto7R0GG9vakuDL1lo4bnSzyXgLpV6DXTgKfC8qd0Vg/s1600/____________________magnolias-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWTF_aVOH3sO5n25WNAEKIYwBXF9WBKDVaHlnh9NBByYA9OX1AdO8XaL-pAEo6A9t0lExgpwvIt-GaAtKS7Wzok0xMHcxB3yB8Oto7R0GG9vakuDL1lo4bnSzyXgLpV6DXTgKfC8qd0Vg/s320/____________________magnolias-large.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div>The Universe is all that is, or ever was, or ever will be. Our contemplations of the cosmos stir us. <br />
There’s a tingling in the spine, a catch in the voice, a faint sensation as if a distant memory of falling from a great height. We know we are approaching the grandest of mysteries. The cosmos is within us. We are made of star stuff."<br />
<br />
Carl SaganAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7581011890548965529.post-40322140378939870882011-12-16T07:35:00.000-02:002011-12-16T07:35:54.571-02:00That perfect tranquility<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh5TTY_4FGFM2q5RFrp2BLa_jh00fLxOe5ip0THYMQMpJEQmiRQqTSEO8K0vGVeeh3SoN9SQun9PBiqk8tdj7Os5r3FUCmISamWC250Mw0pzJFejOPOrsKOVEVcTUT2zFaC7DC4kaBB4E/s1600/___________________portrait_of_milada_cerny-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh5TTY_4FGFM2q5RFrp2BLa_jh00fLxOe5ip0THYMQMpJEQmiRQqTSEO8K0vGVeeh3SoN9SQun9PBiqk8tdj7Os5r3FUCmISamWC250Mw0pzJFejOPOrsKOVEVcTUT2zFaC7DC4kaBB4E/s320/___________________portrait_of_milada_cerny-large.jpg" width="212px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;">"That perfect tranquility of life, which is nowhere to be found but in retreat, a faithful friend and a good library."</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;">Aphra Behn </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04703315890825137723noreply@blogger.com