<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/rss2enclosuresfull.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><rss xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" xmlns:itunes="http://www.itunes.com/dtds/podcast-1.0.dtd" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><title>Attimi Eterni</title><link>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/</link><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Attimi_Eterni" /><description>Per arrivare primi non serve correre più in fretta di chi ti accompagna.
Molti pensano di stare su una retta, mentre percorrono una circonferenza.</description><language>en</language><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</managingEditor><lastBuildDate>Mon, 05 Mar 2012 02:15:55 PST</lastBuildDate><generator>Blogger http://www.blogger.com</generator><openSearch:totalResults xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/">81</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/">1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/">25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><feedburner:info uri="attimi_eterni" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><media:category scheme="http://www.itunes.com/dtds/podcast-1.0.dtd">Education/Educational Technology</media:category><itunes:owner><itunes:email>noreply@blogger.com</itunes:email></itunes:owner><itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit><itunes:subtitle>Per arrivare primi non serve correre più in fretta di chi ti accompagna. Molti pensano di stare su una retta, mentre percorrono una circonferenza.</itunes:subtitle><itunes:summary>Per arrivare primi non serve correre più in fretta di chi ti accompagna. Molti pensano di stare su una retta, mentre percorrono una circonferenza.</itunes:summary><itunes:category text="Education"><itunes:category text="Educational Technology" /></itunes:category><item><title>IO AMO - non sono normale?</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/DrLiqRFr5j0/io-amo-non-sono-normale.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Mon, 05 Mar 2012 02:15:55 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-3240535245753378366</guid><description>&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;     Normal   0         14         false   false   false      IT   X-NONE   X-NONE                                                     MicrosoftInternetExplorer4                                                   &amp;lt;![endif]--&amp;gt;&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/DrLiqRFr5j0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-03-05T11:15:55.945+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q6Gbb1mu7Xo/T1SPTOa2VJI/AAAAAAAAAh8/dZHIp-92rYc/s72-c/DolceMalattia.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/03/io-amo-non-sono-normale.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Il tempo e il corpo</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/UreWhWseFKI/il-tempo-e-il-corpo.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Sun, 04 Mar 2012 11:01:42 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-7763318351166163963</guid><description>Il tempo è una grandezza che riguarda il corpo ma che a lui si nasconde.

Esso è un concetto che appartiene alla mente e questa ne dispone fino a renderlo insignificante o addirittura inesistente.
Per lo spirito non esiste nessuna differenza tra un secondo e un anno, in quanto, considerando entrambi intervalli di tempo che impongono un inizio e una fine, la durata dell’intervallo è delegata al&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/UreWhWseFKI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-03-04T20:01:42.571+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZTb1FkgEI7Q/T1OdKZ0ZiFI/AAAAAAAAAh0/FToIrsMxo-E/s72-c/tempotratto.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/03/il-tempo-e-il-corpo.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Sentieri capricciosi</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/oD62Fj9ICF8/sentieri-capricciosi.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Sat, 03 Mar 2012 02:18:46 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-6930579448675645531</guid><description>Frasi celebri, antiche massime, presunte perle di saggezza, tendono a zittirti, esattamente quanto l’autorevolezza di professore che afferma, oppure la maestosità di genitore burbero.In qualche canzone ho sentito frasi come “Mio padre, una montagna da scalare ... ”. Si comunica l’idea: “Zitto, Non parlare! Conserva il fiato per la salita!”.  Il risultato che si ottiene è una specie di&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/oD62Fj9ICF8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-03-03T11:18:46.729+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TSnUowYnTYc/T1Hv6hrLtNI/AAAAAAAAAhs/FZa8GjMPHbk/s72-c/sentieri.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/03/sentieri-capricciosi.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Pensiero libero</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/skQDMg64RlU/pensiero-libero.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Wed, 29 Feb 2012 08:45:40 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-3739120456948369762</guid><description>Vola mio pensiero.
Vola sui giudizi.
Cavalca idee impossibili.
Di te sono sicuro.
Sei mio, ma non appartieni al mio corpo.
Mi affanno a trovarti una casa, ma scopro solo cellule.
Non fermarti a cercar logica e dimostrazioni.
Continua a parlare con il cuore!
Regalami emozioni, perché è l’unico modo con il quale trascini in volo anche il mio corpo.&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/skQDMg64RlU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-29T17:45:40.420+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bn_P75z9t8o/T05WJl16jbI/AAAAAAAAAhc/b0jkj26jTFc/s72-c/PensieroLlibero.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/pensiero-libero.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Maestri di vita</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/pqADJRBJ0U8/maestri-di-vita.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Mon, 27 Feb 2012 12:19:56 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-774963869801508603</guid><description>&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;     Normal   0         14         false   false   false      IT   X-NONE   X-NONE                                                     MicrosoftInternetExplorer4                                                   &amp;lt;![endif]--&amp;gt;&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/pqADJRBJ0U8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-27T21:19:56.326+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cbYk3WNzY5s/T0vjHppVO3I/AAAAAAAAAhM/GPyakp2sZIA/s72-c/MaestriDiVita.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/maestri-di-vita.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Emozioni silenziose</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/38j2rqC5DV4/emozioni-silenziose.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Sat, 25 Feb 2012 02:13:51 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-6821058592226429094</guid><description>&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;     Normal   0         14         false   false   false      IT   X-NONE   X-NONE                                                     MicrosoftInternetExplorer4                                                   &amp;lt;![endif]--&amp;gt;&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/38j2rqC5DV4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-25T11:13:51.658+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VhNPItOM730/T0iwR-r7j1I/AAAAAAAAAhE/LBsFdePRuWs/s72-c/Vivere.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/emozioni-silenziose.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>La furbizia del più forte</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/wb37gqBT1UM/la-furbizia-del-piu-forte.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Thu, 23 Feb 2012 12:21:34 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-1335841421460624876</guid><description>&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;     Normal   0         14         false   false   false      IT   X-NONE   X-NONE                                                     MicrosoftInternetExplorer4                                                   &amp;lt;![endif]--&amp;gt;&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/wb37gqBT1UM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-23T21:21:34.101+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m64z8XC6aEg/T0acwuGpDJI/AAAAAAAAAg8/e7KQyHmq-14/s72-c/IntellDelForte.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/la-furbizia-del-piu-forte.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Più veloce della luce</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/DIboG0GFMqA/piu-veloce-della-luce.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Tue, 21 Feb 2012 03:30:42 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-1888457658612810411</guid><description>&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;     Normal   0         14         false   false   false      IT   X-NONE   X-NONE                                                     MicrosoftInternetExplorer4                                                   &amp;lt;![endif]--&amp;gt;&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/DIboG0GFMqA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-21T12:30:42.466+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vCAoKPGtC-Q/T0N_WOvMqNI/AAAAAAAAAg0/EKATO89AUac/s72-c/ramonto2.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/piu-veloce-della-luce.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Mamma non arrabbiarti</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/LDUgwZq4dPc/mamma-non-arrabbiarti.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Tue, 21 Feb 2012 02:53:17 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-9197204953586547677</guid><description> 
Essere mamma è difficile ma è anche un premio speciale che Dio ha fatto alle donne.
Come una rosa, l'amore di una mamma per i propri figli porta qualche spina.
Di seguito vi racconto di qualche spina:  
“Essere madre comporta anche la sofferenza di non essere amata dai propri figli. Puoi dare loro la vita, le lacrime e i tuoi momenti migliori. Ma poi potranno scegliere di odiarti, anche solo&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/LDUgwZq4dPc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-21T11:53:17.363+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LrWhL_I7XTA/T0FNubWcSJI/AAAAAAAAAgs/2zqf2hnzGEs/s72-c/mamma.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/mamma-non-arrabbiarti.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>La deriva</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/vAOb4EwhvRg/la-deriva.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Thu, 16 Feb 2012 10:35:03 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-7433868327546702036</guid><description>Ecco un pensiero estratto da facebook. &amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;     Normal   0         14         false   false   false      IT   X-NONE   X-NONE                                                     MicrosoftInternetExplorer4                                                   &amp;lt;![endif]--&amp;gt;&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/vAOb4EwhvRg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-16T19:35:03.508+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0o8sTRbH6G8/Tz1C4r3vIPI/AAAAAAAAAgg/WoPpzme0IPU/s72-c/deriva.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/la-deriva.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Freddo e Gelo</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/vPp2oWk71Z8/freddo-e-gelo.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Wed, 15 Feb 2012 11:32:27 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-919537372964299468</guid><description>&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;     Normal   0         14         false   false   false      IT   X-NONE   X-NONE                                                     MicrosoftInternetExplorer4                                                   &amp;lt;![endif]--&amp;gt;&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/vPp2oWk71Z8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-15T20:32:27.174+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J0wFmdsnXyk/TzwGkMwGrHI/AAAAAAAAAgY/BUzYpQMExtw/s72-c/FreddoEGelo.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/freddo-e-gelo.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>San Valentino</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/zcwRCUAcxFA/san-valentino.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Tue, 14 Feb 2012 10:18:06 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-7011424064315159860</guid><description>Nel giorno convenzionato per celebrare gli innamorati, non posso esimermi a rivolgermi a Voi come INNAMORATI.
Innamorarsi è accendere il motore delle emozioni. Per questo motore non è importante l’oggetto dell’innamoramento, è importante invece che scoppietti, che faccia scintille, in modo che da lontano, come stelle di Natale, si vedano distribuite su tutto il pianeta. 
Droghiamoci di questa&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/zcwRCUAcxFA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-14T19:18:06.005+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Uc6FdDtol2E/TzpJcYG1_oI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/dob9TCyFMB8/s72-c/SanValentino.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/san-valentino.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Parlando d'Amore (2)</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/ufSDalYxS3w/parlando-damore-2.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Sat, 11 Feb 2012 09:44:26 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-1634201531618193333</guid><description>&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;     Normal   0         14         false   false   false      IT   X-NONE   X-NONE                                                     MicrosoftInternetExplorer4                                                   &amp;lt;![endif]--&amp;gt;&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/ufSDalYxS3w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-11T18:44:26.353+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1lKHTwz4rPk/Tzao0XTC8BI/AAAAAAAAAgA/-Xzwa09WNH0/s72-c/Amore2.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/parlando-damore-2.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Pazzi per caso</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/bR0M0m2na1A/pazzi-per-caso.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Fri, 10 Feb 2012 04:50:31 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-3424162059446989240</guid><description>La pazzia è la malattia della mente, e poiché per malattia si intende una qualsiasi alterazione di organi, evidenziata attraverso funzioni non riconosciute normali, la pazzia è la targa che si assegna a una mente che funziona fuori dagli schemi conosciuti.
La pazzia, come tutte le malattie, può denunciare un livello di gravità in relazione alla funzione anomala.
Camminare gambe all’aria, per&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/bR0M0m2na1A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-10T13:50:31.481+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--meEy6I1KaA/TzUPxnEdAJI/AAAAAAAAAf4/tF3PLEdAwBs/s72-c/PazziXcaso.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/pazzi-per-caso.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Una maestra troppo zelante</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/WA_wZMOe784/una-strana-troppo-zelante.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Thu, 09 Feb 2012 02:40:26 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-5867198480288761731</guid><description> Una mamma mi scrive:

"Purtroppo io ho un problema! Non riesco a vedere le maestre di mio figlio come persone normali, esseri umani con cui relazionarmi appieno. Sarà, forse, un mio problema che mi impone di vedere la scuola come un posto non troppo familiare, invece di come dovrebbe essere.

Esperienze vissute da piccola, in cui si annoveravano sgridate e schiaffi, non mi hanno permesso di&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/WA_wZMOe784" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-09T11:40:26.450+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bYIysRo7pv4/TzJhJXSWnYI/AAAAAAAAAfo/qUM0nl_Esco/s72-c/LaStranaMaestra.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/una-strana-troppo-zelante.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Eccoti il mio cuore</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/HxVQgRqGW_Q/eccoti-il-mio-cuore.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Wed, 08 Feb 2012 09:47:41 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-3787502686476120996</guid><description>&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;     Normal   0         14         false   false   false      IT   X-NONE   X-NONE                                                     MicrosoftInternetExplorer4                                                   &amp;lt;![endif]--&amp;gt;&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/HxVQgRqGW_Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-08T18:47:41.992+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nIuE1Fv5HQc/TzKz0Ejj9WI/AAAAAAAAAfw/aNmpU19xqnc/s72-c/bambino.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/eccoti-il-mio-cuore.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Senza parole</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/MQOkKduxOpI/senza-parole.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Wed, 08 Feb 2012 04:50:52 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-6196216947911211934</guid><description> 
Riporto quanto segue, a testimonianza di come l'indifferenza e l'egoismo, sono mali molto più grandi di quelli che si possono immaginare.(il brano è stato ricopiato da facebook)
"Questo bambino che vedete nella foto è mio fratello, come potete vedere non è un bambino  normale, ha avuto dei problemi dopo la nascita, frequenta la prima media a Muravera (Ca).
Sono molto incazzata perchè per&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/MQOkKduxOpI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-08T13:50:52.929+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SK_Y7BTuYvU/TzGLSTK48TI/AAAAAAAAAfg/M4kaPIlJpow/s72-c/bambino.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/senza-parole.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Parlando d'Amore</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/BkHbTmKkbdk/parlando-damore.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Tue, 07 Feb 2012 02:01:36 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-163963093443293514</guid><description>Permettimi di esprimere il mio pensiero nei riguardi dell’Amore. Non ho nessuno che possa smentirmi e non ho nessuna intenzione di raccontare favole su questo argomento. 
Per buona parte di vita vissuta, l’Amore mi ha raccontato di se stesso attraverso la sensibilità del mio cuore. Ho taciuto quando avrei voluto gridare, ora mi esprimo con il pensiero rivolto a colui che sinceramente mi ascolta.&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/BkHbTmKkbdk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-07T11:01:36.314+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AhYAXNONHLw/TzDqcO-GP_I/AAAAAAAAAfY/ISs05zvlxTw/s72-c/Amore1.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/parlando-damore.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>La delusione</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/UBUFXAtDBUA/la-delusione.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Mon, 06 Feb 2012 02:52:57 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-6844590698258030050</guid><description>La delusione implica un’aspettativa che è stata costruita sulla base di riferimenti molto soggettivi e quindi sicuramente diversi o addirittura contrastanti con la realtà.

Una delusione, effetto dell’aspettativa, ti fa vedere il mondo nella prospettiva stabilita dei tuoi riferimenti. La verità proiettata attraverso l’aspettativa è quella rifratta dalle tue ansie e convinzioni, e come tale,&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/UBUFXAtDBUA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-06T11:52:57.090+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IGgPRA-I244/Ty7mpAy-enI/AAAAAAAAAfI/vpJ2cqSK_zk/s72-c/delusione.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/la-delusione.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>La gelosia</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/lubO2bgP-RU/la-gelosia.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Fri, 03 Feb 2012 08:37:11 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-216716309974044324</guid><description>Foglie libere, staccate dall'albero, trascinate da sentimenti sopiti, temono che il sole, facendo evaporare l'acqua,  le faccia lentamente seccare.   

La gelosia è un moto dell’anima triste, debole, maltrattata.
Essa erige la rivendicazione a strumento di combattimento per battaglie che sa di aver già perso. 
Abbraccerei la persona gelosa con una soffocante stretta, per farle capire che l’&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/lubO2bgP-RU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-03T17:37:11.021+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hMAPw_6-EzY/TywFnktDWFI/AAAAAAAAAfA/IYplOoB9Ess/s72-c/gelosia.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/la-gelosia.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Il cielo stellato</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/MCB1hCidF6g/il-cielo-stellato.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Thu, 02 Feb 2012 09:59:00 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-3207263293776322979</guid><description>&amp;lt;!--[if !mso]&amp;gt; 
v\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);}
o\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);}
w\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);}
.shape {behavior:url(#default#VML);}
 &amp;lt;![endif]--&amp;gt;&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;     Normal   0         14         false   false   false      IT   X-NONE   X-NONE                                                     MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/MCB1hCidF6g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-02T18:59:00.999+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oMxYtI9CLMc/TyrNQt5h7_I/AAAAAAAAAe4/maW566mqcAs/s72-c/TerraDaMarte.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/02/il-cielo-stellato.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>La mente ospite del cuore</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/hli15ZA7gWc/la-mente-ospite-del-cuore.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Sun, 29 Jan 2012 05:37:01 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-4880986324474345841</guid><description>Sono convinto che una nuova era partirà appena si concluderà quella in corso. 
Ovunque, potete rilevare segni che invitano a pensare e agire nella maniera in cui l’effetto dell’azione offre un beneficio all’anima. Si insegue uno “star bene” associato all’uso della mente più consono al corpo e alla psicologia dell’individuo. 
Ognuno di noi scava dentro di sé per tirar fuori un segreto, una chiave&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/hli15ZA7gWc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-29T14:37:01.479+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tlttin15rps/TyUOj1PcA4I/AAAAAAAAAeo/URgil56iQ4w/s72-c/gregge.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/01/la-mente-ospite-del-cuore.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Il peso del pensiero</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/ddxDaW3rSbY/il-peso-dl-pensiero.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Thu, 26 Jan 2012 09:04:12 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-2790040997661002436</guid><description>Non conosco i processi biologici medianti i quali il pensiero è reso possibile da un gruppo di cellule che, per un miracolo della natura similmente al processo della sublimazione, trasforma attività chimico-elettriche in qualcosa che non trovando un’espressione migliore chiamiamo pensiero. 
È innegabile che il pensiero esca dalla mia testa. 
Inavvertitamente, quando penso intensamente, la mano&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/ddxDaW3rSbY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-26T18:04:12.333+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KBsriiuln1U/TyGAl6FMRCI/AAAAAAAAAeg/rl_Dht6iS2M/s72-c/pensiero.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/01/il-peso-dl-pensiero.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>In risposta all'amare</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/jGND5o82G_8/in-risposta-allamare.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Sat, 21 Jan 2012 11:34:29 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-4723512419755822868</guid><description>&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;     Normal   0   14         false   false   false                             MicrosoftInternetExplorer4   &amp;lt;![endif]--&amp;gt;&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&amp;gt;     &amp;lt;![endif]--&amp;gt;&amp;lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&amp;gt; 
 /* Style Definitions */
 table.MsoNormalTable
 {mso-style-name:"Tabella normale";
 mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
 mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
 mso-style-noshow:yes;
 mso-style-parent:"";
 mso-padding-alt:&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/jGND5o82G_8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-21T20:34:29.027+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tszOzoQ5pEk/TxsRgq4BoAI/AAAAAAAAAeI/bIVWQo8lECw/s72-c/rosa2.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/01/in-risposta-allamare.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Senza risposte</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~3/hc-uYiCBnj4/senza-risposte.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (prof. ing. Luigi Squeo)</author><pubDate>Wed, 18 Jan 2012 04:50:10 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722754462872120730.post-8332117204599090145</guid><description>Molto tempo fa, viveva un uomo padre di sette figli, tutti maschi. La famiglia abitava una ricca zona della terra, dove era possibile trovare di tutto, sia come opportunità di lavoro, divertimento e cultura, sia come possibilità di ottenere cure e medicine per qualunque malanno. 
Un giorno Marco, il figlio maggiore, decise di abbandonare la casa del padre e vivere un’esperienza solitaria e&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Attimi_Eterni/~4/hc-uYiCBnj4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-18T13:50:10.554+01:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CmUOA5bVQfk/Txa_6-awtrI/AAAAAAAAAeA/OL8c9jBeQtI/s72-c/senzarisposte1.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://luigisqueo.blogspot.com/2012/01/senza-risposte.html</feedburner:origLink></item><media:rating>nonadult</media:rating></channel></rss>

