<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785</id><updated>2024-10-02T03:32:33.841-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Frases, Poemas E Outros Pensamentos. </title><subtitle type='html'>Sensibilidade parabólica! </subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>939</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-3490016440333986930</id><published>2017-05-08T18:50:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2017-05-08T18:50:03.410-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ter fé é ser íntima do meu bom Deus!</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrzOmMokW21JQEjduBUOQW2rQ8qYgl-xmAYPBeRUvzK9FFjMmp3bfHfCSXz-c7Z4_ldonhnDowXMsEWEjx3aifTir9YdVeTcCTxj0cuZePT2CzKWvsT7_cP8S4cc1tH9qHOst8-3uWlWs/s1600/IMG-20170507-WA0024.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrzOmMokW21JQEjduBUOQW2rQ8qYgl-xmAYPBeRUvzK9FFjMmp3bfHfCSXz-c7Z4_ldonhnDowXMsEWEjx3aifTir9YdVeTcCTxj0cuZePT2CzKWvsT7_cP8S4cc1tH9qHOst8-3uWlWs/s320/IMG-20170507-WA0024.jpg&quot; width=&quot;180&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: Cunhada e colaboradora, Jô Moraes.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
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&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Ter fé é ser íntima do meu bom Deus! É ser parte
e ao mesmo tempo ser o todo de tudo que há na terra. Ter fé me faz ser uma
mulher feliz! Me faz perceber beleza nas mínimas coisas que se apresentam
diante de minhas retinas, ter fé me faz cultivar a eterna menina que há dentro
de mim. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Ter fé
me faz mais íntima do meu bom Deus! Tendo fé eu dissipo tempestades de calunias
e suporto todo e qualquer vendaval de inverdades, tendo fé, eu abrando o meu
coração e torno-me também íntima da verdade. Ter fé é entender que mesmo na fé
também as lágrimas caem, é compreender que um caminho sem pedras e obstáculos,
não necessariamente é um caminho seguro. Ter fé é nunca ficar em cima do muro.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Ter fé
me faz mais íntima do meu bom Deus! É entender que eu sou feita da terra, do
céu e do mar. É entender que quando eu prejudicar um desses elementos, eu
estarei prejudicando a mim mesma. Ter fé me faz enxergar o meu próximo, ser o
meu próximo e assim, amá-lo como eu amo mim mesma.&amp;nbsp; Ter fé me faz mais íntima do meu Bom Deus.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/3490016440333986930/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/3490016440333986930?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/3490016440333986930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/3490016440333986930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2017/05/ter-fe-e-ser-intima-do-meu-bom-deus.html' title='Ter fé é ser íntima do meu bom Deus!'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrzOmMokW21JQEjduBUOQW2rQ8qYgl-xmAYPBeRUvzK9FFjMmp3bfHfCSXz-c7Z4_ldonhnDowXMsEWEjx3aifTir9YdVeTcCTxj0cuZePT2CzKWvsT7_cP8S4cc1tH9qHOst8-3uWlWs/s72-c/IMG-20170507-WA0024.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-2726605885843295758</id><published>2017-05-06T13:19:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2017-05-06T13:19:13.755-03:00</updated><title type='text'> Receita de um baiano.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMT7ryfLIvS6_aZbC2CdflnM3hlwfrSYu6cIN6N_cDuIRDUTyH3B-DfFyXXgjfkVkm7wjK6hmWK26ewUPETBkdWnHHB0Rzr4UP1zUlNJWU2w3aad1CWaRGZgIFVCbMMubbmXTBi8OfHq6d/s1600/IMG-20170504-WA0009.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;180&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMT7ryfLIvS6_aZbC2CdflnM3hlwfrSYu6cIN6N_cDuIRDUTyH3B-DfFyXXgjfkVkm7wjK6hmWK26ewUPETBkdWnHHB0Rzr4UP1zUlNJWU2w3aad1CWaRGZgIFVCbMMubbmXTBi8OfHq6d/s320/IMG-20170504-WA0009.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Foto by Mariana Fonte Boa. Praia do Forte/&lt;b&gt;BA.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Caminhar, olhar o horizonte, pés em contato
com a areia e entender que a alma vagueia quando se está em paz. Caminhar,
despir-se de tudo e de todo pensamento negativo, caminhar e encontrar motivos
para sorrir à toa. Contemplar o mar e amar o balé das ondas no perfeito vai e
vem. Caminhar com os pés na areia branca da praia e sentir a brisa do mar
acariciar seu rosto no lindo gesto de querer bem.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Caminhar, olhar o
céu e ler o alfabeto das nuvens, ouvir a melodia do vento e também dançar com o
gingar dos coqueiros, como se todo os dias fossem dias de fevereiro. Deitar em
uma rede e aceitar que devagar também é pressa e, segundo o que um certo amigo
meu baiano me disse: “ tudo começa quando não se tem pressa para começar ”. &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/2726605885843295758/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/2726605885843295758?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/2726605885843295758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/2726605885843295758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2017/05/receita-de-um-baiano.html' title=' Receita de um baiano.'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMT7ryfLIvS6_aZbC2CdflnM3hlwfrSYu6cIN6N_cDuIRDUTyH3B-DfFyXXgjfkVkm7wjK6hmWK26ewUPETBkdWnHHB0Rzr4UP1zUlNJWU2w3aad1CWaRGZgIFVCbMMubbmXTBi8OfHq6d/s72-c/IMG-20170504-WA0009.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-1623522889658587963</id><published>2017-05-04T19:08:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2017-05-04T19:08:57.898-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Tenho fome de vida e sede de fé.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQsO659P7gSkqcReeglzF24yTdTVscIH9vvb8Mqcbor8smnQ8jQNqJbS9LclgNz6QKhFM9cOKiyFCEgpUd2_p_pDKD8f1uA2g6OcxKbMXZP27hrDptV7GmTPnA8uiSWxyqIz7ES-xTZeSs/s1600/IMG-20170504-WA0018.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;180&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQsO659P7gSkqcReeglzF24yTdTVscIH9vvb8Mqcbor8smnQ8jQNqJbS9LclgNz6QKhFM9cOKiyFCEgpUd2_p_pDKD8f1uA2g6OcxKbMXZP27hrDptV7GmTPnA8uiSWxyqIz7ES-xTZeSs/s320/IMG-20170504-WA0018.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Foto By Mariana Fonte Boa. Igreja de São Francisco/Praia do Forte/BA.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Tenho fome de vida e sede de fé, tenho
necessidade de conversar com as estrelas e abraçar o sol da manhã. Tenho
necessidade de andar a pé pela orla das minhas lembranças. Tenho fome de vida e
sede de fé. Tenho em minhas mãos o universo e a única coisa que sempre pedi e peço,
é um cantinho de paz na luz do meu Deus. Eu tenho uma caixinha de sonhos e
planos para o amanhã, mas o meu amanhã sempre será o agora. Ah, então eu não me
preocuparei com o amanhã, porque o amanhã ao meu bom Deus pertence.&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/1623522889658587963/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/1623522889658587963?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/1623522889658587963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/1623522889658587963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2017/05/tenho-fome-de-vida-e-sede-de-fe.html' title='Tenho fome de vida e sede de fé.'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQsO659P7gSkqcReeglzF24yTdTVscIH9vvb8Mqcbor8smnQ8jQNqJbS9LclgNz6QKhFM9cOKiyFCEgpUd2_p_pDKD8f1uA2g6OcxKbMXZP27hrDptV7GmTPnA8uiSWxyqIz7ES-xTZeSs/s72-c/IMG-20170504-WA0018.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-4800060402385944314</id><published>2017-04-29T16:38:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2017-04-29T16:38:59.383-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Só agora, no final das minhas contas.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLj1_JxWTcZnbMuQ_ooXdglLx3d7AFfW3-O3O3WVnv0OM2oMlNhp7HAB5qR0gvy3XOkOy7BHp4dWGX6Rc9LLlxD13iEepXPlNSFvm7MMYnjE7jYa5ISjpzMWKcM2AEAETsd_SlGyPxD3vJ/s1600/599297_468355656516644_1582750852_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLj1_JxWTcZnbMuQ_ooXdglLx3d7AFfW3-O3O3WVnv0OM2oMlNhp7HAB5qR0gvy3XOkOy7BHp4dWGX6Rc9LLlxD13iEepXPlNSFvm7MMYnjE7jYa5ISjpzMWKcM2AEAETsd_SlGyPxD3vJ/s320/599297_468355656516644_1582750852_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;240&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: leitor e colaborador, Edson Coutinho.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Agora, só no final das contas, eu percebi que
a vida não é só viver para pagar contas. Só agora eu acordei para a vida, só
agora entendi que viver não é só acordar para me preocupar apenas com o trabalho
e tantos outros mi, mi, mis e blá, blá,blás desnecessários. Só agora entendi, que
eu passei a vida me condenando por não ter roubado aquele beijo. Só agora eu me
dei conta, que fui meu próprio juiz de um crime que eu adoraria ter cometido,
mas por medo, não cometi. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Agora, só no final dessa viagem, foi que eu
percebi que a vida é uma viagem, mas a viagem da minha vida, eu, por causa de
meras desculpas vãs, nunca a realizei. Só agora eu acordei. Só agora eu percebi
que muito eu caminhei, mas em lugar algum eu cheguei, porque eu sempre caminhei
os caminhos que eu nunca desejei caminhar. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Agora, só no final das contas, eu
entendi que o ser humano é perfeito porque ele é cheio de defeitos, só agora eu
percebi, que perdi muito tempo sendo implacável e cobrando uma falsa perfeição
do meu próximo. Só agora eu percebi, que passei meu tempo preocupado com os
dias do meu calendário e os dias dos meus dias passaram sem eu nem perceber. &amp;nbsp;Agora, só agora, no final das minhas contas,
eu me dei conta de que vivi a minha vida, sem realmente, viver.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/4800060402385944314/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/4800060402385944314?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/4800060402385944314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/4800060402385944314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2017/04/so-agora-no-final-das-minhas-contas.html' title='Só agora, no final das minhas contas.'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLj1_JxWTcZnbMuQ_ooXdglLx3d7AFfW3-O3O3WVnv0OM2oMlNhp7HAB5qR0gvy3XOkOy7BHp4dWGX6Rc9LLlxD13iEepXPlNSFvm7MMYnjE7jYa5ISjpzMWKcM2AEAETsd_SlGyPxD3vJ/s72-c/599297_468355656516644_1582750852_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-7272922701238619676</id><published>2017-04-21T10:45:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2017-04-21T10:45:37.534-03:00</updated><title type='text'>De pai para filho</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCdhnZvS-UAT0goXzjo6SE_XR3k3b0WXefHq9cOKvlNyb224Kku9Vu_RcNVUyzASDY7EEmaN7jPfbP7tyCL6c8ejCjETInLG8JoRKC3x4k-TkJ6Yri3soQn9kxdOScPSZSPscQaRVaPaIG/s1600/15741279_10211383127671342_1655142544695813986_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;180&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCdhnZvS-UAT0goXzjo6SE_XR3k3b0WXefHq9cOKvlNyb224Kku9Vu_RcNVUyzASDY7EEmaN7jPfbP7tyCL6c8ejCjETInLG8JoRKC3x4k-TkJ6Yri3soQn9kxdOScPSZSPscQaRVaPaIG/s320/15741279_10211383127671342_1655142544695813986_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: pai e filho: Deijar Júnior e Vinícios.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Esse mundo todo é seu, ele pertence a sua
vontade de viver, pertencerá a maneira que você o enxergar. Esse mundo todo é seu,
ele será seu inimigo e melhor amigo, lhe fornecerá caminhos e descaminhos,
dependerá apenas de como você o enxergar. Meu filho! Esse mundo todo é seu, ele
pertencerá a cada manhã de um novo dia, a cada repousar de uma linda noite. Ele
estará sempre ali, a sua frente. Dependerá apenas de como você irá abraça-lo.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Esse mundo
todo é seu, porém você terá que entender o que ele lhe diz e lhe dirá, você terá
que aprender a escuta-lo, porque o mundo fala com a gente, meu filho! Você precisará
entender o sorriso do sol e o choro da chuva, precisará entender, que ás vezes,
o sol sorrindo lhe fará chorar e que a chuva chorando lhe farar sorrir. Você precisará
entender que o sorriso do sol e o choro da chuva permearam o seu existir. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Mas esse
mundo todo a sua frente é e sempre será seu, meu filho. Você precisará apenas
respeitar os seus limites e os limites do mundo, precisará entender, que seguir
em frente, nem sempre é adiantar o caminho e que tropeçar e cair, às vezes, lhe
faz seguir mais forte e temente a Deus. Porque esse mundo a sua frente, meu
filho, ele é e sempre será todo seu.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/7272922701238619676/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/7272922701238619676?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/7272922701238619676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/7272922701238619676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2017/04/de-pai-para-filho.html' title='De pai para filho'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCdhnZvS-UAT0goXzjo6SE_XR3k3b0WXefHq9cOKvlNyb224Kku9Vu_RcNVUyzASDY7EEmaN7jPfbP7tyCL6c8ejCjETInLG8JoRKC3x4k-TkJ6Yri3soQn9kxdOScPSZSPscQaRVaPaIG/s72-c/15741279_10211383127671342_1655142544695813986_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-3509938534082106538</id><published>2017-04-13T19:05:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2017-04-13T19:05:59.257-03:00</updated><title type='text'>A minha oração é silenciosa</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuKqVQi-uQwyOtCVXNk9-jeYd_filpiwq_IWsfZt3yEShzyse8NjwZJJnEZjb6m2uB67zy5Wd5bwFKk_6dc6fpjFNiBWKjOkACrZqHwC7dEi6g3qVPSTKhBCcclSP3Y4ypW1GCRBWFjIw/s1600/foooooto.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuKqVQi-uQwyOtCVXNk9-jeYd_filpiwq_IWsfZt3yEShzyse8NjwZJJnEZjb6m2uB67zy5Wd5bwFKk_6dc6fpjFNiBWKjOkACrZqHwC7dEi6g3qVPSTKhBCcclSP3Y4ypW1GCRBWFjIw/s320/foooooto.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Foto by Luis Augusto Augusto.Na foto: leitora e colaboradora, Hendrica Lupato.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; A
minha oração é silenciosa, a minha oração, por muitas vezes, foi sem palavras, foi
apenas com o meu olhar. A minha oração, Senhor! É para agradecer tudo o que eu tenho
e o que não tenho também! Porque, Senhor! Quando não tinha, eu aprendi que as
coisas que eu tanto quis e queria, tinham nos desígnios do Senhor, o seu tempo
certo para acontecerem. E quando passei a ter, eu aprendi a valorizar e
entender que nada era meu, mas tudo era do Pai.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; A
minha oração é silenciosa, a minha oração, por muitas vezes, foi sem palavras, foi
apenas com o meu recolher, apenas assim, pés no chão e coração ao alto. A minha
oração, Senhor! É para agradecer o meu acordar para o novo dia e a noite que se
foi, é para agradecer a água e o pão, o sim e o não que me fortaleceram como
sua filha e ser humano. É para agradecer por não ter realizado todos os meus
sonhos e assim, continuar pisando no chão.&amp;nbsp;
&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/3509938534082106538/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/3509938534082106538?isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/3509938534082106538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/3509938534082106538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2017/04/a-minha-oracao-e-silenciosa.html' title='A minha oração é silenciosa'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuKqVQi-uQwyOtCVXNk9-jeYd_filpiwq_IWsfZt3yEShzyse8NjwZJJnEZjb6m2uB67zy5Wd5bwFKk_6dc6fpjFNiBWKjOkACrZqHwC7dEi6g3qVPSTKhBCcclSP3Y4ypW1GCRBWFjIw/s72-c/foooooto.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-5718792666593956840</id><published>2017-04-08T09:48:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2017-04-08T09:48:35.472-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Aquela esquina.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhK5VIocYyPmwdheJ9vJy8atGpnJXVlgpR6JTSw2NYu5Lv9b7oPVLfM4eE9v4FRgCwph5FVegr5j-hqQI-7dlHlxnrcdh8Vq8KRl9IMtDT95dc4GU4jrUEBYFFa6Q3mAw6HTMTmmM2yvRy/s1600/cf0a285a353f4da057d88d1b9e67e663.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;239&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhK5VIocYyPmwdheJ9vJy8atGpnJXVlgpR6JTSw2NYu5Lv9b7oPVLfM4eE9v4FRgCwph5FVegr5j-hqQI-7dlHlxnrcdh8Vq8KRl9IMtDT95dc4GU4jrUEBYFFa6Q3mAw6HTMTmmM2yvRy/s320/cf0a285a353f4da057d88d1b9e67e663.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Foto: fonte da internet.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Aquela esquina ainda habita o meu olhar,
ainda habita cada vão das minhas retinas, ainda habita cada viela da minha
percepção ótica. Aquela esquina que ainda habita o meu olhar, presenciou nosso
primeiro encontro, nosso primeiro recíproco sorriso, nosso primeiro gesto de
carinho. Aquela esquina que ainda habita minhas retinas. Aquela esquina, aquela
esquina entendeu que naquele momento, o amor, à primeira vista, ali, naquela
esquina, simplesmente, acontecia.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/5718792666593956840/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/5718792666593956840?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/5718792666593956840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/5718792666593956840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2017/04/aquela-esquina.html' title='Aquela esquina.'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhK5VIocYyPmwdheJ9vJy8atGpnJXVlgpR6JTSw2NYu5Lv9b7oPVLfM4eE9v4FRgCwph5FVegr5j-hqQI-7dlHlxnrcdh8Vq8KRl9IMtDT95dc4GU4jrUEBYFFa6Q3mAw6HTMTmmM2yvRy/s72-c/cf0a285a353f4da057d88d1b9e67e663.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-4991271957242024916</id><published>2017-04-01T12:53:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2017-04-01T12:53:17.802-03:00</updated><title type='text'>O silencio sempre falou por mim.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXWy9OJJCfTzps134vOJJrCWyxeipP8iMyjfRl7ROos5IQMbEiVVGTOHzMu21OCbMX-GYc08hnch8nHIiQp7UCcSvBQ6DTtPh2dNCgwxiTNLC6wg3J3SmQUFeznlziwrsjJYR_Nhhqu3U8/s1600/Alessandra.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXWy9OJJCfTzps134vOJJrCWyxeipP8iMyjfRl7ROos5IQMbEiVVGTOHzMu21OCbMX-GYc08hnch8nHIiQp7UCcSvBQ6DTtPh2dNCgwxiTNLC6wg3J3SmQUFeznlziwrsjJYR_Nhhqu3U8/s320/Alessandra.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: leitora e colaboradora: Alessandra Freitas.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;
&amp;nbsp;O meu silencio sempre falou por
mim, falou tudo e todas as palavras que eu nunca consegui dizer. Daqui, do alto
do meu silencio, virgulas e vielas nas entrelinhas dos tantos discursos não
ditos, virgulas e vielas que nunca coloriram uma única oração. Daqui do alto do
meu silencio, tantas palavras adormecidas que poderiam acordar essa cidade.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;O meu silencio sempre falou por mim, falou
tudo e todas as palavras que nunca consegui proferir. Daqui, desse inquieto vão
do meu silencio, apenas observações e indagações que nunca ganharam vida. Nunca
abriram portas consideradas importantes, mas me mostraram janelas que sempre apontavam
para uma nova chance. Daqui, desse inquieto vão do meu silencio, tantas
interrogações que poderiam ser dissipadas se não fosse o meu silencio em forma
de “Se”.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: PT-BR; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;
O meu silencio sempre falou por mim, falou tudo e todas as palavras que
nunca ganharam sons. Daqui, desse universo do meu silencio, textos escritos com
belas palavras silenciosas, textos escritos com palavras traduzidas pelo meu
tímido olhar. &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/4991271957242024916/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/4991271957242024916?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/4991271957242024916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/4991271957242024916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2017/04/o-silencio-sempre-falou-por-mim.html' title='O silencio sempre falou por mim.'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXWy9OJJCfTzps134vOJJrCWyxeipP8iMyjfRl7ROos5IQMbEiVVGTOHzMu21OCbMX-GYc08hnch8nHIiQp7UCcSvBQ6DTtPh2dNCgwxiTNLC6wg3J3SmQUFeznlziwrsjJYR_Nhhqu3U8/s72-c/Alessandra.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-799453123123714829</id><published>2017-03-18T15:51:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2017-03-18T15:51:19.884-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Deixe o amor amar e ser amado.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj54dWfkhjLcLJUc8sje4io0ywGvUBM_V836YBG23jX90YY6Tk7pZLDia6YMVZXIXhHSY3wvsvVevSDpWls9ujtiAMyRDzDT8WZPadaO-eSUxi3xSoZH0T5klMsdDhbC95ItAtVMoRl8Pol/s1600/IMG-20170314-WA0015.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj54dWfkhjLcLJUc8sje4io0ywGvUBM_V836YBG23jX90YY6Tk7pZLDia6YMVZXIXhHSY3wvsvVevSDpWls9ujtiAMyRDzDT8WZPadaO-eSUxi3xSoZH0T5klMsdDhbC95ItAtVMoRl8Pol/s320/IMG-20170314-WA0015.jpg&quot; width=&quot;228&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: casal de noivos: Fillipe Souza e Lídia Hélen.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Deixe o amor brincar, deixe o amor voar, deixe
o amor amar e ser amado. Deixe o amor andar de mãos dadas, deixe o amor
escrever cartas e mandar recados apaixonados pelas sacadas do romantismo. Deixe
o amor amar e ser amado. Deixe o amor corre descalço e dançar na chuva, deixe o
amor valorizar o vinho ao se lembrar da jornada das uvas. Deixe o amor amar e
ser amado.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Deixe o amor brincar, deixe o amor chorar ao
admirar aquele sorriso lindo, deixe o amor sorrir ao provocar aquela lagrima de
alegria. Deixe o amor contemplar o pôr-do-sol e o nascer de um novo dia. Deixe
o amor amar e ser amado.&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/799453123123714829/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/799453123123714829?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/799453123123714829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/799453123123714829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2017/03/deixe-o-amor-amar-e-ser-amado.html' title='Deixe o amor amar e ser amado.'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj54dWfkhjLcLJUc8sje4io0ywGvUBM_V836YBG23jX90YY6Tk7pZLDia6YMVZXIXhHSY3wvsvVevSDpWls9ujtiAMyRDzDT8WZPadaO-eSUxi3xSoZH0T5klMsdDhbC95ItAtVMoRl8Pol/s72-c/IMG-20170314-WA0015.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-8973306932927905164</id><published>2017-03-10T19:56:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2017-03-10T19:56:06.109-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Da vida, nunca espere nada.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4J5Bh3RyrXkOSu-HvP2OcgIcfBRYRNddATlS8xAdD0Yepk3lwuRH6AB9xcPtasUJHsvXkLHXITiinYe7suwyqG4e1XvZ-A42_oYmzJfmd-oBopkbPTRScpbZjC6qT7ZVYttUZWkg3mWX/s1600/13055358_1074322372652371_1299654203354561065_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;316&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4J5Bh3RyrXkOSu-HvP2OcgIcfBRYRNddATlS8xAdD0Yepk3lwuRH6AB9xcPtasUJHsvXkLHXITiinYe7suwyqG4e1XvZ-A42_oYmzJfmd-oBopkbPTRScpbZjC6qT7ZVYttUZWkg3mWX/s320/13055358_1074322372652371_1299654203354561065_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: leitor e colaborador do blog, Rodrigo Alves.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Da vida, não espere muito, apenas espere achar
tempo para gastá-lo, ao lado da pessoa ou das pessoas amadas. Da vida, não espere
nada, mas procure sempre estender as mãos ao seu próximo, procure dar com a mão
direita e que a sua esquerda esteja em paz no dia do adeus. Da vida, não peça
nada, e terá o suficiente, na graça do nosso bom Deus.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Da
vida, não espere nada, procure apenas admirar as flores e compreender a
natureza rústica dos espinhos, procure entender que a vida do pão só é possível
por causa da morte do trigo. Da vida, não espere nada, nunca se aventure por
efêmeras paixões ou amores de carnaval e você terá por porto seguro, um sorriso
companheiro e um colo carinhoso a te esperar a cada pôr- do- sol. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: PT-BR; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Da
vida, bom, da vida, nunca espere nada, apenas caminhe os caminhos que se
apresentarem diante dos seus passos. Combata o bom combate, cultive a verdade,
ore e vigie para evitar as mentiras. E nunca se esqueça... Da vida, bom, não
espere nada, porque o nosso Deus sempre colocará em sua jornada, tudo o que você
necessitará para viver.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/8973306932927905164/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/8973306932927905164?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/8973306932927905164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/8973306932927905164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2017/03/da-vida-nunca-espere-nada.html' title='Da vida, nunca espere nada.'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4J5Bh3RyrXkOSu-HvP2OcgIcfBRYRNddATlS8xAdD0Yepk3lwuRH6AB9xcPtasUJHsvXkLHXITiinYe7suwyqG4e1XvZ-A42_oYmzJfmd-oBopkbPTRScpbZjC6qT7ZVYttUZWkg3mWX/s72-c/13055358_1074322372652371_1299654203354561065_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-2823708974547628731</id><published>2017-03-07T19:36:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2017-03-07T19:36:47.671-03:00</updated><title type='text'>    Mulher é o ventre do mundo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; .&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgHZ8ejNxcIdfAF_uKtwKIz_LfRXvs4zFX1Pneu7-gi3rNawDM6JO595O_RuBAdhh6LCSOSxlS65_Mpi4vBJfDfqk0rCnIwMZSRE7tX0nWDAGi8G4oUiTJxDT1rPQqZQ1HQGuwyQnMz_Mk/s1600/cordao-umbilical.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;214&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgHZ8ejNxcIdfAF_uKtwKIz_LfRXvs4zFX1Pneu7-gi3rNawDM6JO595O_RuBAdhh6LCSOSxlS65_Mpi4vBJfDfqk0rCnIwMZSRE7tX0nWDAGi8G4oUiTJxDT1rPQqZQ1HQGuwyQnMz_Mk/s320/cordao-umbilical.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Foto do blog: Baraká.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Ventre do mundo, vasto universo de
possibilidades, amparo para o tato que corre para lugar algum. Ventre do mundo,
caminho e descaminho poético, não apenas o achado e o perdido da imaginação masculina.
A mulher é sopro, é inspiração divina. Ventre do mundo, metáfora simples para
rimas complicadas, ponto e vírgula que dão sentido e ritmo ao texto chamado
viver. Mulher! Bom, a mulher é o querer bem e bem querer.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Ventre do mundo, tradutora do silencio e dos
pensamentos lançados ao mar. Mulher é a manifestação do verbo amar, a mulher
não cabe em si e cabe em qualquer lugar. Ventre do mundo, vilarejo, cidade,
país. Mulher é alma e a palma da mão, mulher é dualidade, ao mesmo tempo pode
ser nuvem e vulcão. Ventre do mundo, avó, mãe, irmã, esposa e filha. Mulher é o
mosaico da família.&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/2823708974547628731/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/2823708974547628731?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/2823708974547628731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/2823708974547628731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2017/03/mulher-e-o-ventre-do-mundo.html' title='    Mulher é o ventre do mundo.'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgHZ8ejNxcIdfAF_uKtwKIz_LfRXvs4zFX1Pneu7-gi3rNawDM6JO595O_RuBAdhh6LCSOSxlS65_Mpi4vBJfDfqk0rCnIwMZSRE7tX0nWDAGi8G4oUiTJxDT1rPQqZQ1HQGuwyQnMz_Mk/s72-c/cordao-umbilical.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-7680065770865547412</id><published>2015-12-05T15:18:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2015-12-05T17:05:04.658-03:00</updated><title type='text'>O amor nasce sem gestação</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9HLW1iTo5oSkPS8JwcqoxDB-Jxnl4BU1HzOZBQoiT_MOIIUfEv0HNp2bGwKm9Z2KbF7o4MosSSMpdYEFOpk0NyZ39vygbkGLHK3W6pfZErDnvsTe51x6f7azE0b1CnaVsO35nw0bExNo/s1600/12032186_997778360274603_7592197299884008100_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9HLW1iTo5oSkPS8JwcqoxDB-Jxnl4BU1HzOZBQoiT_MOIIUfEv0HNp2bGwKm9Z2KbF7o4MosSSMpdYEFOpk0NyZ39vygbkGLHK3W6pfZErDnvsTe51x6f7azE0b1CnaVsO35nw0bExNo/s320/12032186_997778360274603_7592197299884008100_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: casal de leitores, Emanuelle Sales e Rodrigo Alves.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; O amor nasce sem gestação, sem intenção, sem frases
feitas ou frases calculadas. O amor chega sem pedir licença, permissão, sem
ingresso e sem pensar em regresso. O amor acontece sem a gente ter a certeza
que ele aconteceu. O amor pode vir a cavalo, de carona em uma nuvem ou chuva. O
amor pode vir no colo de um beijo.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;O amor
pode ser fruto da amizade, pode ser do interior ou da cidade. Pode acontecer em
qualquer esquina ou viela do nosso coração. O amor nasce diferente nos iguais e
igual nos diferentes, o amor une todo tipo de gente. O amor nasce sem gestação,
sem espera ou sem esperar. O amor apenas chega, de maneira tal que nem o próprio
amor sebe ele mesmo explicar.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/7680065770865547412/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/7680065770865547412?isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/7680065770865547412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/7680065770865547412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2015/12/o-amor-nasce-sem-gestacao.html' title='O amor nasce sem gestação'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9HLW1iTo5oSkPS8JwcqoxDB-Jxnl4BU1HzOZBQoiT_MOIIUfEv0HNp2bGwKm9Z2KbF7o4MosSSMpdYEFOpk0NyZ39vygbkGLHK3W6pfZErDnvsTe51x6f7azE0b1CnaVsO35nw0bExNo/s72-c/12032186_997778360274603_7592197299884008100_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-3217491015889249152</id><published>2015-12-04T08:22:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2015-12-04T08:22:34.442-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Agora eu sigo viagem</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE1B20kEBjN8fOrtj0c7HM6YntOctxQr-9RwulGa8SRI5wG5PS9faqGk5gT5QCVfcqvEcu7GeLVHW1V3bBgeZypaB2TWCqO19hSHOGb3eXxtvG6jOP0Cs9isf3H0W-4a3Pinz7WLimTegD/s1600/12106782_895875253837396_1061640802499891299_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE1B20kEBjN8fOrtj0c7HM6YntOctxQr-9RwulGa8SRI5wG5PS9faqGk5gT5QCVfcqvEcu7GeLVHW1V3bBgeZypaB2TWCqO19hSHOGb3eXxtvG6jOP0Cs9isf3H0W-4a3Pinz7WLimTegD/s320/12106782_895875253837396_1061640802499891299_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: leitora e colaboradora, Nathália Cristina.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
Agora eu sigo viagem, agora eu parto e parto o meu
coração. Agora o tempo é todo movimento em prol da reconstrução do meu coração. Agora eu parto e fico ao meu lado tentando compreender o quanto uma partida
e um coração partido influenciarão o meu viver.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/3217491015889249152/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/3217491015889249152?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/3217491015889249152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/3217491015889249152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2015/12/agora-eu-sigo-viagem.html' title='Agora eu sigo viagem'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE1B20kEBjN8fOrtj0c7HM6YntOctxQr-9RwulGa8SRI5wG5PS9faqGk5gT5QCVfcqvEcu7GeLVHW1V3bBgeZypaB2TWCqO19hSHOGb3eXxtvG6jOP0Cs9isf3H0W-4a3Pinz7WLimTegD/s72-c/12106782_895875253837396_1061640802499891299_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-1130700401597881313</id><published>2015-12-02T07:23:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2015-12-02T07:23:09.203-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Através da oração</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHK6DHjrwHG487i0Whm8Z-qWI4UlOoYwK66YXPiqwc_fWuKfTEuyFmXomdHZUpsSav7k-KycSStou95ghZ8J-aib5swDs87Z7yW6d4ezIGqudujdsknPJhJP5D4cUqYXpRzi07SjDcqf3E/s1600/12122615_10207366407072721_3670564215233468990_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHK6DHjrwHG487i0Whm8Z-qWI4UlOoYwK66YXPiqwc_fWuKfTEuyFmXomdHZUpsSav7k-KycSStou95ghZ8J-aib5swDs87Z7yW6d4ezIGqudujdsknPJhJP5D4cUqYXpRzi07SjDcqf3E/s320/12122615_10207366407072721_3670564215233468990_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: leitor e colaborador, Cássio Pereira.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Amigo, hoje o meu coração quis
escrever que a oração é o sublime canal de comunicação com nosso Cristo vivo.
Em oração, nós nos despimos das nossas mazelas, dos nossos pecados, sentimos o
perdão e o perdoar e nos vestimos das graças e misericórdia de Deus.&amp;nbsp; Através da oração, a paciência me contou que
a pressa me distancia de Deus e me aproxima do desespero e das ideias loucas.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Amigo,
hoje o meu coração quis escrever que através da oração eu entendi que o nosso
olhar é livro que o Senhor sabe ler e que na oração, palavras se transformam em
água que limpa o nosso interior e verbaliza o poder e a autoridade divina. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;
Amigo, hoje o meu coração quis escrever que se você estiver passando por
um período turbulento ou estiver vivendo a melhor fase da sua vida. Então,
joelho no chão e oração! Ore para agradecer, ore para repreender, ore quando
estiver fraquejando. Porque amigo, com oração, mesmo quando o mar não estiver
dando peixe, seu barco nunca voltará vazio.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
André Mantena,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/1130700401597881313/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/1130700401597881313?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/1130700401597881313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/1130700401597881313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2015/12/atraves-da-oracao.html' title='Através da oração'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHK6DHjrwHG487i0Whm8Z-qWI4UlOoYwK66YXPiqwc_fWuKfTEuyFmXomdHZUpsSav7k-KycSStou95ghZ8J-aib5swDs87Z7yW6d4ezIGqudujdsknPJhJP5D4cUqYXpRzi07SjDcqf3E/s72-c/12122615_10207366407072721_3670564215233468990_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-7750087207440225176</id><published>2015-11-28T07:23:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2015-11-28T07:29:03.443-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Eu tenho fé na vida que eu ainda não vivi (para a leitora, Solange Santos).</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK52ST30zvh1oA2EVsUqeiYTJQ8aKQ5EdE9ULYZAGrZVkqON9_P5QtX3AOq3V_ruWsVPgPUBdJuXyjRPyUmYbSc4HWdvs9FLEki_Uh4_GffwyB-r2wi4fT66CsIM2uRz5NEms_xvzY0XNa/s1600/1979633_834516153229790_975134437_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK52ST30zvh1oA2EVsUqeiYTJQ8aKQ5EdE9ULYZAGrZVkqON9_P5QtX3AOq3V_ruWsVPgPUBdJuXyjRPyUmYbSc4HWdvs9FLEki_Uh4_GffwyB-r2wi4fT66CsIM2uRz5NEms_xvzY0XNa/s320/1979633_834516153229790_975134437_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;247&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: leitora e amiga, Solange Santos.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Eu tenho fé na vida, na vida que eu vivi e
também na vida que eu ainda não vivi. Eu sou vida e a vida nunca me negou
passagem, a vida sempre me fez viver e conhecer paisagens. Eu tenho fé na vida,
na vida que se personificou na figura do meu Deus. Na figura do meu Deus vivo. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Eu
tenho fé na vida de sorrisos e de lágrimas que povoaram meu coração, tenho fé
na mão que se estende em prol de outra mão. Eu tenho fé na vida que eu ainda
não vivi, tenho fé na vida que me estendeu os braços quando eu nasci. Fé nos paralelepípedos
e ferrovias da minha infância, eu tenho fé no horizonte que nunca deixou de namorar
minhas retinas, fé nos meus inocentes sonhos de menina.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Eu tenho fé na vida que eu vivi, tenho fé nos
desígnios de Deus na minha vida, fé na estrada que está diante dos meus olhos
agora. Eu tenho fé na vida, na vida que eu ainda não vivi e na vida de outrora.
&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
André Mantena,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/7750087207440225176/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/7750087207440225176?isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/7750087207440225176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/7750087207440225176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2015/11/eu-tenho-fe-vida-que-eu-ainda-nao-vivi.html' title='Eu tenho fé na vida que eu ainda não vivi (para a leitora, Solange Santos).'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK52ST30zvh1oA2EVsUqeiYTJQ8aKQ5EdE9ULYZAGrZVkqON9_P5QtX3AOq3V_ruWsVPgPUBdJuXyjRPyUmYbSc4HWdvs9FLEki_Uh4_GffwyB-r2wi4fT66CsIM2uRz5NEms_xvzY0XNa/s72-c/1979633_834516153229790_975134437_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-4912091564419821225</id><published>2015-11-13T20:20:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2015-11-13T20:20:32.190-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Eu perdi o trem...</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgpTv31fDJVw7RXPRNKjpv77VV5sx0Mr1prZzu-2iUsoGV7OuQkV-HSaCm6pNaaWEoyMZbj6U69GV4JCjjXEbS0QwFBh34-Mw7FMWdh7iALfn2KGLrjFZBLARdHOgb05Imu5t4tAxyfGz/s1600/396520_378804168801495_665169628_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgpTv31fDJVw7RXPRNKjpv77VV5sx0Mr1prZzu-2iUsoGV7OuQkV-HSaCm6pNaaWEoyMZbj6U69GV4JCjjXEbS0QwFBh34-Mw7FMWdh7iALfn2KGLrjFZBLARdHOgb05Imu5t4tAxyfGz/s320/396520_378804168801495_665169628_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;173&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: leitor e colaborador, Higor Luan.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Eu
perdi o trem e não vi o sol se pôr, eu perdi o trem e não falei “eu te amo,
amor”. Bem da verdade, acho que eu não amei por medo de me machucar. O fato é
que eu perdi o trem e hoje estou aqui a ver navios. Eu perdi o trem e não
dancei aquela dança, não cultivei a esperança dentro do meu peito, eu fiz muita
coisa errada tentando fazer direito. O fato é que eu perdi muito tempo tentando
ganhar tempo e acabei perdendo o trem.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;
Eu perdi o trem e não vi o sol se pôr, eu perdi o trem e não fiz aquela
tão sonhada viagem, perdi e dei passagem para a oportunidade passar por mim. A
verdade é que fiquei traçando planos e metas e não vi que a seta da inércia só apontava
para mim. Eu perdi o trem e não fui àquela festa, não usei a frase certa que
aquele certo alguém tanto queria escutar. O fato é que eu perdi o trem chamado
vida e hoje aguardo a minha hora chegar. Eu, aqui neste solitário terminal desta
estação das coisas que eu não vivi. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/4912091564419821225/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/4912091564419821225?isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/4912091564419821225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/4912091564419821225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2015/11/eu-perdi-o-trem.html' title='Eu perdi o trem...'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgpTv31fDJVw7RXPRNKjpv77VV5sx0Mr1prZzu-2iUsoGV7OuQkV-HSaCm6pNaaWEoyMZbj6U69GV4JCjjXEbS0QwFBh34-Mw7FMWdh7iALfn2KGLrjFZBLARdHOgb05Imu5t4tAxyfGz/s72-c/396520_378804168801495_665169628_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-5874123352749165534</id><published>2015-11-12T20:08:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2015-11-12T20:08:30.909-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Eu tirei uma selfie...(texto baseado em Selfies reais)</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-l1XBPFRKly1iX89uBwiOl6CcCX4ORAyu-R5t0hbrQ08GfNwWmtzZppK-x9jdgwlVspstR524KWqfy-3mtFNZP2ROiFkGisZWghMzBBd3o53ECGc6GJ54Tzxyf0YmnI_V5L-zbjlHk6L/s1600/12244066_715067038594784_547838086_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-l1XBPFRKly1iX89uBwiOl6CcCX4ORAyu-R5t0hbrQ08GfNwWmtzZppK-x9jdgwlVspstR524KWqfy-3mtFNZP2ROiFkGisZWghMzBBd3o53ECGc6GJ54Tzxyf0YmnI_V5L-zbjlHk6L/s320/12244066_715067038594784_547838086_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;180&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: leitora e colaboradora, Nayara Vieira.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eu tirei uma selfie e atualizei o meu perfil,
eu tirei uma selfie e todo mundo curtiu. Tirei uma selfie, mas ela não captou o
que minha alma realmente refletia. Eu tirei uma selfie, mas ela não capitou a
verdadeira essência daquele momento, ela não capitou a tristeza dos meus
pensamentos. Para tirar essa selfie, eu precisei mascarar meu sorriso, calar a
minha alma, pôr a melhor roupa e fazer cara de paisagem. Eu tirei uma selfie,
mas ela não retratou a minha verdade. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eu tirei uma selfie e atualizei o meu perfil,
eu tirei uma selfie e todo mundo curtiu. Tirei uma selfie, mas ela não captou o
deserto que habitava o meu coração, ela não captou que naquele momento, eu
tentava juntar os cacos após uma grade decepção. Eu tirei uma selfie e pintei
de feliz aquela pessoa na fotografia, eu tirei uma selfie com um sorriso
alegre, mas sem alegria.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;
Eu tirei uma selfie e atualizei o meu perfil, eu tirei uma selfie e todo
mundo curtiu. Tirei uma selfie, como qualquer selfie de qualquer outra pessoa.
Uma selfie que retratou o lugar, as coisas à minha volta, a minha roupa nova, o
meu novo celular, a viagem para aquele sonhado lugar. Eu tirei uma selfie, como
qualquer selfie que qualquer outra pessoa também de si mesma tirou. Eu tirei
uma selfie que retratava tudo, menos o meu verdadeiro interior. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/5874123352749165534/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/5874123352749165534?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/5874123352749165534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/5874123352749165534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2015/11/eu-tirei-uma-selfietexto-baseado-em.html' title='Eu tirei uma selfie...(texto baseado em Selfies reais)'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-l1XBPFRKly1iX89uBwiOl6CcCX4ORAyu-R5t0hbrQ08GfNwWmtzZppK-x9jdgwlVspstR524KWqfy-3mtFNZP2ROiFkGisZWghMzBBd3o53ECGc6GJ54Tzxyf0YmnI_V5L-zbjlHk6L/s72-c/12244066_715067038594784_547838086_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-1335696381135282638</id><published>2015-11-07T11:28:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2015-11-07T11:29:59.497-03:00</updated><title type='text'>A onda e mar de Mariana. (para a minha conselheira, Mariana)</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_i-_lh2B4wMVpTnPYM8kJXKrPk0hJkHZB73x6gxEn5PD1usUmtUpe_vB4N2mTCdtwCj_X7L28C9R_4lQkjoWNn3DEMwnhfqpK9FgY-t6SKEjNby9R7nN6MapsXNyMp-AU3q68ltdtUB_G/s1600/12204713_892494107506161_1551558438_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_i-_lh2B4wMVpTnPYM8kJXKrPk0hJkHZB73x6gxEn5PD1usUmtUpe_vB4N2mTCdtwCj_X7L28C9R_4lQkjoWNn3DEMwnhfqpK9FgY-t6SKEjNby9R7nN6MapsXNyMp-AU3q68ltdtUB_G/s320/12204713_892494107506161_1551558438_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: leitora e colaboradora, Mariana Fonte.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A minha onda é ser uma figura sempre na
minha, uma figura discreta e sem muitos alardes. Sei que sou motivo de festa
para poucas retinas, mas o brilho do meu olhar jamais o anonimato irá apagar.
Talvez, nem todo vestido me caia bem, mas já ouvi de um antigo bem, que eu sou
como aquela nota perfeita que cai bem em qualquer canção. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A minha onda é ser uma figura sempre na
minha, uma figura que conhece os limites entre a fronteira do sensual e o
vulgar, da paixão e do amar, sou uma figura que conhece a diferença entre amor
e sexo. Talvez, talvez eu seja apenas uma figura que simplesmente saiba
conversar com o mar. O mar é sempre um bom conselheiro. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; A
minha onda é ser uma figura sempre na minha, uma figura irreverentemente tímida
e timidamente irreverente. A dualidade é uma onda que habita meu ser de maneira
latente. Sei dos conselhos do espelho e da tal busca pelo corpo perfeito, mas
um dia, um dia o mar me falou que eu representava a perfeita simetria: corpo,
alma e coração. E naquele fim de tarde, naquele dia, enquanto o mar, aquelas
belas palavras me dizia, eu chorava de emoção. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
André Mantena&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/1335696381135282638/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/1335696381135282638?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/1335696381135282638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/1335696381135282638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2015/11/a-onda-e-mar-de-mariana.html' title='A onda e mar de Mariana. (para a minha conselheira, Mariana)'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_i-_lh2B4wMVpTnPYM8kJXKrPk0hJkHZB73x6gxEn5PD1usUmtUpe_vB4N2mTCdtwCj_X7L28C9R_4lQkjoWNn3DEMwnhfqpK9FgY-t6SKEjNby9R7nN6MapsXNyMp-AU3q68ltdtUB_G/s72-c/12204713_892494107506161_1551558438_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-1295469420313284675</id><published>2015-11-05T20:05:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2015-11-05T20:06:38.834-03:00</updated><title type='text'>A bela e o dragão.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCW4P9Bf8ELwa4pWB7fhraouRQqSJnPsLrf2-BR1OeivE2dVjza8JO3cOxn5PZA7RD5EWC0UmC4-v82pUv-VZrosqd99ZMkVf6gZvtKvtU0eHdnOOeuZXvCxnwLVJXPV-5EYySC4eLqTSq/s1600/11705309_10206519398338032_459563971259736220_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;199&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCW4P9Bf8ELwa4pWB7fhraouRQqSJnPsLrf2-BR1OeivE2dVjza8JO3cOxn5PZA7RD5EWC0UmC4-v82pUv-VZrosqd99ZMkVf6gZvtKvtU0eHdnOOeuZXvCxnwLVJXPV-5EYySC4eLqTSq/s320/11705309_10206519398338032_459563971259736220_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: casal de leitores, Ana Paula &amp;nbsp;Spalding e Luis Augusto.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Ela é
diferente e possui uma beleza que destoa do senso comum, já ele é paz para a guerra
santa dos olhares de alguns. Ela é a bela e ele carrega a fama de ser impiedosa
fera. Ela sedutoramente percorre as retinas de algumas imaginações, já ele faz
e refaz um mosaico de inquietantes sensações! Uma existência baseada na outra,
uma dualidade que permeia a existência de dois seres.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; A bela tem seus momentos de fera e
a fera por vezes, se transforma em anjo só para ganhar um tantinho de colo da
bela. Ela possui personalidade forte e decidida, já ele, bem, ele na figura de
fera, repousa sua fúria nas curvas da bela. Ela desperta o fogo das paixões,
ele abranda o fogo do seu desejo nos caracóis dos cabelos dela. Ela, menina
moça mulher. Ele, dragão destemido, prisioneiro na prisão sem grades dos
encantos da bela. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/1295469420313284675/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/1295469420313284675?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/1295469420313284675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/1295469420313284675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2015/11/a-bela-e-o-dragao.html' title='A bela e o dragão.'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCW4P9Bf8ELwa4pWB7fhraouRQqSJnPsLrf2-BR1OeivE2dVjza8JO3cOxn5PZA7RD5EWC0UmC4-v82pUv-VZrosqd99ZMkVf6gZvtKvtU0eHdnOOeuZXvCxnwLVJXPV-5EYySC4eLqTSq/s72-c/11705309_10206519398338032_459563971259736220_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-2755563174280262811</id><published>2015-11-04T19:46:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2015-11-04T19:46:55.194-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Eu sou pescador de fé</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUQOSjIfv4qdNl8Wu5R3Up6OlsVhQEjokJdFL9mJC0apO2KAYhvuBjAcehNjqS9HHbVqUvIycSyQm_5r3t-hU0dJRjxvU79OfbjNLO-18hlejJvLANNFrht_164q6nkYNxdutLTrxS5jw0/s1600/10410351_664137407023200_2386015503126297106_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUQOSjIfv4qdNl8Wu5R3Up6OlsVhQEjokJdFL9mJC0apO2KAYhvuBjAcehNjqS9HHbVqUvIycSyQm_5r3t-hU0dJRjxvU79OfbjNLO-18hlejJvLANNFrht_164q6nkYNxdutLTrxS5jw0/s320/10410351_664137407023200_2386015503126297106_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: leitor e colaborador, Ugo Loroza.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eu sou pescador de fé, sou pescador das
coisas que não se pode ver a olho nu. Pescador de boas novas! Eu sou pescador
de dias melhores, das noites estreladas e das madrugadas enluaradas. Eu, eu sou
pescador da fé em Deus. Sou pescador que navegou mar revolto e enfrentou
tormenta, mas jamais deixou de admirar a beleza e tamanha imensidão que o velho
mar possui. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eu sou
pescador de fé, sou pescador do perdão e do perdoar, do amor e do amar, sou
pescador do cair e sempre levantar. Pescador do gesto de estender as mãos para
ajudar o próximo e do repartir o pão de cada dia. Eu sou pescador da palavra de
Deus. Pescador de valorizar o peixe e o trigo, o sal e a terra. Eu sou pescador
de fé para prevenir ou apaziguar toda e qualquer possibilidade de guerra. Sou
pescador dos desígnios do meu bom Deus.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
André Mantena,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/2755563174280262811/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/2755563174280262811?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/2755563174280262811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/2755563174280262811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2015/11/eu-sou-pescador-de-fe.html' title='Eu sou pescador de fé'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUQOSjIfv4qdNl8Wu5R3Up6OlsVhQEjokJdFL9mJC0apO2KAYhvuBjAcehNjqS9HHbVqUvIycSyQm_5r3t-hU0dJRjxvU79OfbjNLO-18hlejJvLANNFrht_164q6nkYNxdutLTrxS5jw0/s72-c/10410351_664137407023200_2386015503126297106_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-1927844800600819112</id><published>2015-10-30T09:46:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2015-10-30T09:46:42.638-03:00</updated><title type='text'>O tempo é o nosso melhor conselheiro.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoOEJRRV8pFBoYsKH7xtoA5ZZMAhYKA7G8tVYrKfVuTNlzHwOgftia3G7D1qbY88vL9Ftewz4ArD78SXUfbTXU4H_K4Iesi_c2qVl9sihNLqZJuCIcVaGI6b0cmK3V0fUWQKL-yhAvtCR/s1600/11826028_864001620358469_3069828871006511020_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;180&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoOEJRRV8pFBoYsKH7xtoA5ZZMAhYKA7G8tVYrKfVuTNlzHwOgftia3G7D1qbY88vL9Ftewz4ArD78SXUfbTXU4H_K4Iesi_c2qVl9sihNLqZJuCIcVaGI6b0cmK3V0fUWQKL-yhAvtCR/s320/11826028_864001620358469_3069828871006511020_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: leitora e colaboradora, Liliane Fernandes.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Com
o passar do tempo aprendemos que o tempo é um ótimo conselheiro, com ele aprendemos
a conversar e a entender o que a voz divina, sabiamente nos diz. Aprendemos a recolhe
os excessos e a moderar, o tempo nos ensina a ponderar. Ele nos ensina a
aprender e a viver harmonicamente com a presença da morte. Nos ensina que
vitória e sucesso são estradas que, não necessariamente precisam passar pelo
vilarejo chamado Sorte. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Com
o passar do tempo aprendemos que o tempo é um ótimo conselheiro, com ele aprendemos
a ouvir o que a voz divina, carinhosamente nos diz. Aprendemos que o tempo pode
ser amigo para unir dois corações ou implacável para separar paixões. Ele nos faz
esquecer um alguém ou aumentar a saudade que aperta o nosso no peito. O tempo é
um a onda que vai e vem.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Com o
passar do tempo aprendemos que o tempo é um ótimo conselheiro, com ele aprendemos
a ouvir o que a voz divina, sabiamente nos diz. Aprendemos que muitas vezes ele
é o melhor remédio para as dores de amor e um ótimo cicatrizante para as
feridas da alma. O tempo é um milagroso colírio para combater as cegueiras
quase irreversíveis da paixão. Nos ensina que em algumas situações, o silêncio
é o nosso maior discurso. O tempo é o inicio, meio e fim de todo e qualquer
percurso.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/1927844800600819112/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/1927844800600819112?isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/1927844800600819112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/1927844800600819112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2015/10/o-tempo-e-o-nosso-melhor-conselheiro.html' title='O tempo é o nosso melhor conselheiro.'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoOEJRRV8pFBoYsKH7xtoA5ZZMAhYKA7G8tVYrKfVuTNlzHwOgftia3G7D1qbY88vL9Ftewz4ArD78SXUfbTXU4H_K4Iesi_c2qVl9sihNLqZJuCIcVaGI6b0cmK3V0fUWQKL-yhAvtCR/s72-c/11826028_864001620358469_3069828871006511020_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-7847223766085062501</id><published>2015-10-27T19:46:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2015-10-27T19:47:39.917-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ele é o meu amor de amar.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0cqqIVbTJGUnhTkoeuPxkJEccDbjF_w3YxIb7tMpFBbhYNegPl_vPVUe48t4FV2O6kRzExE8p2jKXT4Tt5Yw8ciQ5qYdgJf114M7YCvX_K5P7AxFj8erJaNsKisioNoRpiqtOPKyaC1o0/s1600/12180170_1133558683338942_1720639419_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0cqqIVbTJGUnhTkoeuPxkJEccDbjF_w3YxIb7tMpFBbhYNegPl_vPVUe48t4FV2O6kRzExE8p2jKXT4Tt5Yw8ciQ5qYdgJf114M7YCvX_K5P7AxFj8erJaNsKisioNoRpiqtOPKyaC1o0/s320/12180170_1133558683338942_1720639419_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;212&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: casal de leitores, Renata Bernardes e Rodrigo Ribeiro.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Ele é
o meu amor para amar. Ele é o meu alguém para chamar de meu bem, ele é o amor
que me faz bem. É o amor diferente, amor de repente, amor de primeira viagem, amor
transparente, amor que não tem segredos e tampouco tem medo, medo de se
entregar. Ele é o meu amor para amar. Amor que fala besteiras, que aceita e faz
brincadeiras, brincadeiras de amar. Ele é o meu amor que não faz promessas e que
não teme pressa, pressa de sair de perto de mim.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Ele é
o meu amor para amar. Amor inocente, amor que me faz recomeçar a cada momento
que eu o encontro, amor que supera a rotina, amor que encanta a menina do meu olhar.
Ele é o meu amor doce feito doce de se lambuzar, amor gostoso de amar. Ele é o
meu amor que entende as minhas falhas e que suporta a navalha do tempo, amor
que perpassa o tempo, ele é o meu amor, amor de para sempre amar.&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/7847223766085062501/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/7847223766085062501?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/7847223766085062501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/7847223766085062501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2015/10/ele-e-o-meu-amor-de-amar.html' title='Ele é o meu amor de amar.'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0cqqIVbTJGUnhTkoeuPxkJEccDbjF_w3YxIb7tMpFBbhYNegPl_vPVUe48t4FV2O6kRzExE8p2jKXT4Tt5Yw8ciQ5qYdgJf114M7YCvX_K5P7AxFj8erJaNsKisioNoRpiqtOPKyaC1o0/s72-c/12180170_1133558683338942_1720639419_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-7883873213333160905</id><published>2015-10-22T19:41:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2015-10-22T19:41:55.215-03:00</updated><title type='text'>A mulher é decididamente indecisa.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKrgpLrvbwjtxmDwxN_yc4fQlB1roayNYJ3GJ1d3GSNKSH2FFTYra89TuRa2HTjrDo48C5IcGcj5HvM42wxYvOPYpsLIeU5yQwuBGgkd5R6sKmhNs0iyOzpc3SxSrvv9wCpcc1kFRzHsz/s1600/images.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKrgpLrvbwjtxmDwxN_yc4fQlB1roayNYJ3GJ1d3GSNKSH2FFTYra89TuRa2HTjrDo48C5IcGcj5HvM42wxYvOPYpsLIeU5yQwuBGgkd5R6sKmhNs0iyOzpc3SxSrvv9wCpcc1kFRzHsz/s1600/images.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot; class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;
Mulher é um ser divino e maravilhoso, porém complicado de se entender! A
mulher é decididamente indecisa, vive constantemente na linha tênue do “isso ou
aquilo”. A mulher está sempre entre um belo salto alto ou uma linda sandalinha
rasteira, entre um scarpin preto ou uma gladiadora, um tênis casual ou
sapatilha. Mulher está sempre entre o continente e a ilha. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Mulher está sempre preocupada com o espelho e é ansiosa por natureza,
revela seus traumas e fantasmas quando o assunto beleza vem à mesa. Ela está sempre
entre o engordar ou o emagrecer, entre spinning ou correr, entre malhação ou
natação, dançar ou caminhar. Mulher está sempre entre o comer ou não comer.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;
Mulher é um ser divino e maravilhoso, porém complicado de se entender! A
mulher é simplesmente complicada, é Tpmmente delicada. Ama o sexo, mas não acha
que o sexo seja tudo no amor. Ela está sempre entre deixa o cabelo crescer ou
cortá-lo, deixá-lo natural ou alisá-lo, entre o loiro ou o castanho, entre qual
cor e qual tamanho. A mulher é um ser decididamente indeciso, ela,
naturalmente, ao ler esse texto estará entre concordar ou não concordar com o
que eu escrevi. Essa será a grande questão!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
André Luiz Simões,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/7883873213333160905/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/7883873213333160905?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/7883873213333160905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/7883873213333160905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2015/10/a-mulher-e-decididamente-indecisa.html' title='A mulher é decididamente indecisa.'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKrgpLrvbwjtxmDwxN_yc4fQlB1roayNYJ3GJ1d3GSNKSH2FFTYra89TuRa2HTjrDo48C5IcGcj5HvM42wxYvOPYpsLIeU5yQwuBGgkd5R6sKmhNs0iyOzpc3SxSrvv9wCpcc1kFRzHsz/s72-c/images.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-7293825848160034702</id><published>2015-10-17T11:39:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2015-10-17T11:39:53.832-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Eu que nunca acreditei no “De repente”.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lMctmqknciXDwU-fCsbVPs84oXWZMEhzXF2txL4IucVbOaxBP1rg3Z7oDAxIjuQ2ZYK4Ql0ynmsmhgRLomT-4cS9UcxFiBRQ2V0QliyXHW7cECejzghQH3RoZU9ZmhZk-0SalRZX_cYi/s1600/308051_473818112671315_686995285_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lMctmqknciXDwU-fCsbVPs84oXWZMEhzXF2txL4IucVbOaxBP1rg3Z7oDAxIjuQ2ZYK4Ql0ynmsmhgRLomT-4cS9UcxFiBRQ2V0QliyXHW7cECejzghQH3RoZU9ZmhZk-0SalRZX_cYi/s320/308051_473818112671315_686995285_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;240&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: casal de leitores, Grazielle Santos e Antonio Júnior.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;De repente, passei a sentir um frio na barriga,
minhas frases se tornaram confusas, minhas ideias amontoadas, mas curiosamente,
o meu papo se tornou um papo reto. De repente, passei a sentir uma angustiante falta
de assunto, uma falta de ar, uma falta de noção. Mas eu não sei explicar o que
é isso! Ultimamente me pego com um sorriso bobo no rosto, andando de um jeito desengonçado,
com o coração descompassado e os pensamentos nas nuvens. Mas eu não sei
explicar o que é isso! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; De repente, passei a usar
só o meu melhor perfume, só as minhas melhores roupas e passei a achar algumas
canções sertanejas, extremamente perfeitas. Eu tenho viajado nos livros que eu
leio e até chorei assistindo alguns filmes de comédia romântica. Logo eu? &amp;nbsp;Que sempre compartilhei a ideia de que homem
não deve chorar! De repente, percebi que isso tudo passou a acontecer depois
que eu a vi pela primeira vez, depois que eu caminhei de mãos dadas com ela
pelo shopping, depois que eu a beijei pela primeira vez, depois que eu a vi usando
aquelas orelhinhas da Minnie .&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;De repente, de repente eu percebi que não
sabia e não saberia mesmo explicar tudo isso ou aquilo que estava acontecendo
comigo. Logo eu, cara sempre brincalhão, cantor de uma banda de Rock and &amp;nbsp;Roll. Logo eu, eu que nunca acreditei no “De
repente” de repente, entendia que aquilo que eu chamava de “Isso”, era e se
chamava Amor.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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André Mantena,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/7293825848160034702/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/7293825848160034702?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/7293825848160034702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/7293825848160034702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2015/10/eu-que-nunca-acreditei-no-de-repente.html' title='Eu que nunca acreditei no “De repente”.'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lMctmqknciXDwU-fCsbVPs84oXWZMEhzXF2txL4IucVbOaxBP1rg3Z7oDAxIjuQ2ZYK4Ql0ynmsmhgRLomT-4cS9UcxFiBRQ2V0QliyXHW7cECejzghQH3RoZU9ZmhZk-0SalRZX_cYi/s72-c/308051_473818112671315_686995285_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929629621835738785.post-2480751291926363639</id><published>2015-10-16T21:03:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2015-10-16T21:05:30.874-03:00</updated><title type='text'>O olhar é livro.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ5iN3JQiXoGVFfKNGltU9BQPnvPJWQ6H-2P7PBDZC1-8N7_cJmzobkJXOICqGZOHJHOa75fXYTHYBFDp3bVImzGz74PNR7K8Ocmj5x4FUafL71hyUnIJpYEOxMrdsozgsPl03Fm9h9DrH/s1600/395057_446783865385604_2143346956_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ5iN3JQiXoGVFfKNGltU9BQPnvPJWQ6H-2P7PBDZC1-8N7_cJmzobkJXOICqGZOHJHOa75fXYTHYBFDp3bVImzGz74PNR7K8Ocmj5x4FUafL71hyUnIJpYEOxMrdsozgsPl03Fm9h9DrH/s320/395057_446783865385604_2143346956_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Na foto: leitora e colaboradora, Rayana Santos.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; O
olhar é livro, é capsula protetora, é joia reveladora da alma do ser. O olhar é
mar revolto, é rio de água parada, ele pode dizer tudo e não dizer nada do que
a alma quer dizer. O olhar é abismo, estrada incerta e porta entreaberta, é via
de mão dupla da essência do ser. O olhar é confissão, é sim e não, é um querer
sendo talvez e um talvez sendo não.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; O
olhar é livro com vários parágrafos e capítulos, mas sem um ponto final. É baú
de grandes segredos, é a janela do medo, é acerto e engano, o olhar é o manual
de instruções do ser humano. O olhar é labirinto e vilarejo, é sedução e
desejo, o olhar é a porta de entrada para o amor. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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André Mantena,&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/feeds/2480751291926363639/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7929629621835738785/2480751291926363639?isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/2480751291926363639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7929629621835738785/posts/default/2480751291926363639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frasespoemaseoutrospensamentos.blogspot.com/2015/10/o-olhar.html' title='O olhar é livro.'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15050480034089684717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ5iN3JQiXoGVFfKNGltU9BQPnvPJWQ6H-2P7PBDZC1-8N7_cJmzobkJXOICqGZOHJHOa75fXYTHYBFDp3bVImzGz74PNR7K8Ocmj5x4FUafL71hyUnIJpYEOxMrdsozgsPl03Fm9h9DrH/s72-c/395057_446783865385604_2143346956_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>