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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;A0ENRHo7eyp7ImA9Wx9VF0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986</id><updated>2011-02-03T17:01:35.403-02:00</updated><title>Pensei.. Caiu na rede..</title><subtitle type="html">Pensando, pensando, pensando...</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>83</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/PenseiCaiuNaRede" /><feedburner:info uri="penseicaiunarede" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUYNSXgyfCp7ImA9Wx9VF0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-6269896072066813493</id><published>2011-02-03T16:19:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2011-02-03T16:19:58.694-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-03T16:19:58.694-02:00</app:edited><title>Livro de amor</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TUrxyFfhaEI/AAAAAAAAAL8/QEq1Ijv8XEY/s1600/leio%2Bo%2Bamor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TUrxyFfhaEI/AAAAAAAAAL8/QEq1Ijv8XEY/s320/leio%2Bo%2Bamor.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Há noites e noites... &lt;br /&gt;
Algumas de sono, outras de pura viagem em pensamentos. Filmes nas gavetas, livros na estante... E acabo por folhear meu coração.&lt;br /&gt;
Um coração cheio de escritas, imagens e lembranças que ficarão guardadas para sempre. &lt;br /&gt;
Alegrias inenarráveis. Contidas e incontáveis. &lt;br /&gt;
Momentos mágicos de uma relação que foi muito além de uma simples ilusão. Um disparar de sonhos e descobertas que só o amor pode proporcionar.&lt;br /&gt;
Choros incontidos de emoção. O amor perfeito cheio de defeitos que só fazem o sentimento e a busca crescerem sem limites.&lt;br /&gt;
A procura. O encontro. O amor. Dois corações. Palavras de um livro escritas por mim e por você. Todos os dias. Histórias que fazem de nossa vida poesia e drama, comédia e ação.&lt;br /&gt;
Assim está escrito e nada pode apagar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-6269896072066813493?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0aAZ6BjehW3HSiyP6CQDqLFux_I/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0aAZ6BjehW3HSiyP6CQDqLFux_I/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/icPVURK2dI8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/6269896072066813493/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2011/02/livro-de-amor.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/6269896072066813493?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/6269896072066813493?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/icPVURK2dI8/livro-de-amor.html" title="Livro de amor" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TUrxyFfhaEI/AAAAAAAAAL8/QEq1Ijv8XEY/s72-c/leio%2Bo%2Bamor.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2011/02/livro-de-amor.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4GQHgyfyp7ImA9Wx9VF0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-8490726749514363170</id><published>2011-02-03T16:14:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2011-02-03T16:15:21.697-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-03T16:15:21.697-02:00</app:edited><title>Na rede</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TUrwbYkTRNI/AAAAAAAAALk/vVYrllDSpuk/s1600/1287605458rede.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="239" width="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TUrwbYkTRNI/AAAAAAAAALk/vVYrllDSpuk/s320/1287605458rede.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Uma enchente de emoções&lt;br /&gt;
E começam os devaneios&lt;br /&gt;
Um transbordar de mim mesmo&lt;br /&gt;
A ponto de me afogar em tristeza&lt;br /&gt;
E sem perceber, suspirar de felicidade&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Abdico do mundo&lt;br /&gt;
E em meio aos sonhos começo a pensar&lt;br /&gt;
De súbto caio na rede&lt;br /&gt;
Finalmente.. fisgado pelo amor!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-8490726749514363170?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1KQGx9YZyBQQLu4SUakmEaG_dRg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1KQGx9YZyBQQLu4SUakmEaG_dRg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/6VzIHUwKCo0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/8490726749514363170/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2011/02/na-rede.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/8490726749514363170?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/8490726749514363170?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/6VzIHUwKCo0/na-rede.html" title="Na rede" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TUrwbYkTRNI/AAAAAAAAALk/vVYrllDSpuk/s72-c/1287605458rede.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2011/02/na-rede.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8DRH85eCp7ImA9Wx9VEEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-8785266240796211705</id><published>2011-01-26T21:34:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T21:34:35.120-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-26T21:34:35.120-02:00</app:edited><title>Vencendo o passado</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eSLboDgDZk4/TUCvZm7OGPI/AAAAAAAAACw/reOn4TrvImo/s1600/lagrima.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eSLboDgDZk4/TUCvZm7OGPI/AAAAAAAAACw/reOn4TrvImo/s320/lagrima.jpg" width="317" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
"Enquanto eu estiver bem e você também, eu viverei!Com todas as minhas dores e meus dias cansados...&lt;br /&gt;
Enquando eu puder sorrir ,eu viverei,com a maior ferida e com o maior sofrimento sentido,mas mesmo assim sobreviverei,atráves do tempo e da felicidade,atráves &amp;nbsp;de amores quaisquer,aqueles sem valor algum...&lt;br /&gt;
Viverei atráves de conselhos e experiencias ,e serei feliz por ter encontrado alguém que realmente pode me fazer bem , 'o bem' que eu achava que você fazia..ou faria por mim" - escrito por &lt;b&gt;Gabriela Oliveira&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-8785266240796211705?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qDS03nEEry8e8CqmKmIGD2PtKeU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qDS03nEEry8e8CqmKmIGD2PtKeU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/c6_IK3xokec" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/8785266240796211705/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2011/01/vencendo-o-passado.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/8785266240796211705?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/8785266240796211705?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/c6_IK3xokec/vencendo-o-passado.html" title="Vencendo o passado" /><author><name>Gabriel S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203179200620231158</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="17372282128663061347" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eSLboDgDZk4/TUCvZm7OGPI/AAAAAAAAACw/reOn4TrvImo/s72-c/lagrima.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2011/01/vencendo-o-passado.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEQDSHk8eyp7ImA9Wx9WGUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-5631444256668102901</id><published>2011-01-25T20:59:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2011-01-25T20:59:39.773-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-25T20:59:39.773-02:00</app:edited><title>Uma simples amizade?</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eSLboDgDZk4/TT9VuRLSNEI/AAAAAAAAACs/TYy3am7YHGI/s1600/amor-e-amizade.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eSLboDgDZk4/TT9VuRLSNEI/AAAAAAAAACs/TYy3am7YHGI/s320/amor-e-amizade.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Nossa cultura nos ensina que o amor é algo além da amizade,&lt;br /&gt;
mas muitas vezes em uma relação que se diz amorosa pode ser muito menos amorosa do que uma simples amizade.&lt;br /&gt;
E em varios casos, as pessoas de uma amizade se amam, mas não sabem, enquanto as de um romance estão uma traindo a outra..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-5631444256668102901?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FGzLc_RJzB4VhPx93Yfvga0tftM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FGzLc_RJzB4VhPx93Yfvga0tftM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/8PEgSjlo3rY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/5631444256668102901/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2011/01/uma-simples-amizade.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/5631444256668102901?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/5631444256668102901?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/8PEgSjlo3rY/uma-simples-amizade.html" title="Uma simples amizade?" /><author><name>Gabriel S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203179200620231158</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="17372282128663061347" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eSLboDgDZk4/TT9VuRLSNEI/AAAAAAAAACs/TYy3am7YHGI/s72-c/amor-e-amizade.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2011/01/uma-simples-amizade.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkEBQXY9eSp7ImA9Wx9WGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-3745484608592026816</id><published>2011-01-24T18:24:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T18:24:10.861-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-24T18:24:10.861-02:00</app:edited><title>Viver para morrer, amar para sofrer.</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eSLboDgDZk4/TT3fYqX3OtI/AAAAAAAAACo/HA6XYSDsF6w/s1600/vida+imensa.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eSLboDgDZk4/TT3fYqX3OtI/AAAAAAAAACo/HA6XYSDsF6w/s320/vida+imensa.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Qual seria o verdadeiro sentido de viver?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Dizem que vivemos para morrer, mas por que?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Dizem também, que vivemos para amar... Mas se amamos, sofremos, e que em alguns casos, leva a morte.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Talvez vivemos para aprender algo, para evoluirmos espiritualmente, ou apenas isso tudo seja algo como uma ilusão.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Se nós pararmos para pensar, vamos acabar nos enrolando e ficando cada vez mais confusos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Se a vida nos mostrasse qual o sentido de viver não teria a menor graça, não teríamos a curiosidade de saber por que estamos aqui, de onde vimos e para onde vamos... Por isso não se preocupe com o porquê de você estar aqui, apenas vá e viva!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-3745484608592026816?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3RmbjYiwCGKPd9oxc8ASTxLLP00/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3RmbjYiwCGKPd9oxc8ASTxLLP00/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/7xSPKNOUtnw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/3745484608592026816/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2011/01/viver-para-morrer-amar-para-sofrer.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/3745484608592026816?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/3745484608592026816?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/7xSPKNOUtnw/viver-para-morrer-amar-para-sofrer.html" title="Viver para morrer, amar para sofrer." /><author><name>Gabriel S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203179200620231158</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="17372282128663061347" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eSLboDgDZk4/TT3fYqX3OtI/AAAAAAAAACo/HA6XYSDsF6w/s72-c/vida+imensa.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2011/01/viver-para-morrer-amar-para-sofrer.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4CRH07fCp7ImA9Wx9WFk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-4246063202936595974</id><published>2011-01-21T12:59:00.008-02:00</published><updated>2011-01-21T13:16:05.304-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-21T13:16:05.304-02:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TTmhSSMGnKI/AAAAAAAAAKc/a9SJ_YNINaY/s1600/banho_demorado.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 220px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TTmhSSMGnKI/AAAAAAAAAKc/a9SJ_YNINaY/s320/banho_demorado.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564656150085278882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;http://http://parcelasdepizzicato.blogspot.com/2009/12/siriricando-por-ai.html&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E os homens...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Hoje mesmo foram 3!&lt;br /&gt;- 3???&lt;br /&gt;- Já é sábado e foram só duas.&lt;br /&gt;- Hoje?&lt;br /&gt;- Não, na semana inteira...&lt;br /&gt;- Tem que aquecer antes do jogo.&lt;br /&gt;- Eu sei, mas...&lt;br /&gt;- Sem "mas", vá logo tomar um banho beeeem demorado.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-4246063202936595974?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lIFOPpTXTCAd8g0lgTg0mNdb_bI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lIFOPpTXTCAd8g0lgTg0mNdb_bI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/JOxZobBkcCk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/4246063202936595974/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2011/01/e-os-homens.html#comment-form" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/4246063202936595974?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/4246063202936595974?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/JOxZobBkcCk/e-os-homens.html" title="" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TTmhSSMGnKI/AAAAAAAAAKc/a9SJ_YNINaY/s72-c/banho_demorado.gif" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2011/01/e-os-homens.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEIBQXg-fSp7ImA9Wx9RGUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-8568638747937226420</id><published>2010-12-21T20:56:00.005-02:00</published><updated>2010-12-21T21:02:30.655-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-21T21:02:30.655-02:00</app:edited><title>A Última Cena</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TRExVOKWkLI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/IijB130-vo4/s1600/cinema1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TRExVOKWkLI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/IijB130-vo4/s320/cinema1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553274056173064370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Invisto minhas últimas quantias de esperança no improvável. O som ao fundo toca as notas de uma partitura triste - ou de um coração partido. Com a trilha sonora pronta, o que se vê em nossa frente são as cenas finass de um bom filme, prestes a sair de cartaz. Finalmente apagam-se as luzes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Resta o "improvável". Nova estréia, novos personagens, novo roteiro: uma continuação.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-8568638747937226420?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oMz7jt19TmHxparkQQrDBh0IGaM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oMz7jt19TmHxparkQQrDBh0IGaM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/fgai_LSx0zc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/8568638747937226420/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/12/ultima-cena.html#comment-form" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/8568638747937226420?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/8568638747937226420?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/fgai_LSx0zc/ultima-cena.html" title="A Última Cena" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TRExVOKWkLI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/IijB130-vo4/s72-c/cinema1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/12/ultima-cena.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcNQnk_cCp7ImA9Wx9RGE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-5532249271843001854</id><published>2010-12-19T23:02:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2010-12-19T23:04:53.748-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-19T23:04:53.748-02:00</app:edited><title>Uma Lição de Amor</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TQ6rqwFSTAI/AAAAAAAAAKI/eBlaLoCoyLs/s1600/amor-de-verao.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TQ6rqwFSTAI/AAAAAAAAAKI/eBlaLoCoyLs/s320/amor-de-verao.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552564141544328194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A vida me ensinou,&lt;br /&gt;Uma grande lição,&lt;br /&gt;Amor não é paixão,&lt;br /&gt;Pois preste atenção,&lt;br /&gt; Paixão te faz sofrer,&lt;br /&gt; Paixão te faz mentir,&lt;br /&gt; Paixão é um sentimento,&lt;br /&gt; que machuca por dentro,&lt;br /&gt;Amar é diferente,&lt;br /&gt;Não machuca agente,&lt;br /&gt; Amar te faz feliz,&lt;br /&gt; Amar te faz querer,&lt;br /&gt; Amar é uma emoção,&lt;br /&gt; que não me faz sofrer.&lt;br /&gt;Mas eu fui aprender,&lt;br /&gt;Sofrendo por vc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Texto escrito por Gabriel de Sá Dini&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-5532249271843001854?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0PtYfn3RTdVe6n2xlY69EEGkoLU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0PtYfn3RTdVe6n2xlY69EEGkoLU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/NUYqiw3E1FM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/5532249271843001854/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/12/uma-licao-de-amor.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/5532249271843001854?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/5532249271843001854?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/NUYqiw3E1FM/uma-licao-de-amor.html" title="Uma Lição de Amor" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TQ6rqwFSTAI/AAAAAAAAAKI/eBlaLoCoyLs/s72-c/amor-de-verao.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/12/uma-licao-de-amor.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0QFSXs7cCp7ImA9Wx9RE0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-5513034365709337833</id><published>2010-12-14T19:48:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T20:21:58.508-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-14T20:21:58.508-02:00</app:edited><title>Um sonho</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TQft_qYLTmI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/6w94SveR0ic/s1600/anjo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 305px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TQft_qYLTmI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/6w94SveR0ic/s320/anjo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550666743720660578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os belos e longos fios de ouro pareciam ter brilho próprio. Àquela distância, o rosto de anjo deixava de lado a santidade e passava a ser um convite à perdição. Os traços suntuosos eram quase perfeitos. Beleza era sinônimo de sua graça.&lt;br /&gt;Seu andar imponente e tardio, fazia de uma simples caminhada, um desfile que levava todos à sua volta a uma instantânea reverência e a mim a um profundo e feliz mergulho nas mais belas águas da paixão.&lt;br /&gt;Águas essas, límpidas e puras, nas quais quero me fartar de prazer e afogarme pela eternidade.&lt;br /&gt;E um sonho assim, não pode ser chamado de pecado, é apenas a mais transparente manifestação do amor.&lt;br /&gt;Sigo amando... E sonhando!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-5513034365709337833?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qRoH4d97fYjHzI9aFZik_qn1okU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qRoH4d97fYjHzI9aFZik_qn1okU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/UtqtMiATQuo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/5513034365709337833/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/12/um-sonho.html#comment-form" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/5513034365709337833?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/5513034365709337833?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/UtqtMiATQuo/um-sonho.html" title="Um sonho" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TQft_qYLTmI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/6w94SveR0ic/s72-c/anjo.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/12/um-sonho.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkABSHc4eCp7ImA9Wx5UFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-1306248599509552608</id><published>2010-10-19T00:59:00.005-02:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T01:25:59.930-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-19T01:25:59.930-02:00</app:edited><title>C'est l'amour</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TL0O4TkFmUI/AAAAAAAAAJo/XdX58pUcbhs/s1600/amour.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TL0O4TkFmUI/AAAAAAAAAJo/XdX58pUcbhs/s320/amour.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529592277967935810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Braços feito asas&lt;br /&gt;O céu não é o limite&lt;br /&gt;Um coração anestesiado&lt;br /&gt;Por um sorriso&lt;br /&gt;Dá fôlego e inspiração&lt;br /&gt;A alguém decidido a amar&lt;br /&gt;Trilhando entre as nuvens&lt;br /&gt;Perseguindo desejos&lt;br /&gt;Caçando sonhos&lt;br /&gt;Um suspiro&lt;br /&gt;C'est l'amour&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="430" height="347"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4Z7CrtT9FzA?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;amp;color2=0xe87a9f"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4Z7CrtT9FzA?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;amp;color2=0xe87a9f" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="430" height="347"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-1306248599509552608?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HcYHBZ85VA6BuKRkrn8gLu4p-kY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HcYHBZ85VA6BuKRkrn8gLu4p-kY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/SsoUzSJqN5k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/1306248599509552608/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/cest-lamour.html#comment-form" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/1306248599509552608?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/1306248599509552608?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/SsoUzSJqN5k/cest-lamour.html" title="C'est l'amour" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TL0O4TkFmUI/AAAAAAAAAJo/XdX58pUcbhs/s72-c/amour.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/cest-lamour.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0EMQ348cSp7ImA9Wx5UFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-8463896982387882322</id><published>2010-10-18T23:54:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T00:34:42.079-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-19T00:34:42.079-02:00</app:edited><title>Brasil</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TL0CcLLhynI/AAAAAAAAAJg/Y7JM8wVLkFE/s1600/brasil.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TL0CcLLhynI/AAAAAAAAAJg/Y7JM8wVLkFE/s320/brasil.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529578600541571698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iguais nas diferenças&lt;br /&gt;Diferentes nas igualdades&lt;br /&gt;A verdade universal não existe&lt;br /&gt;Nos tornamos marionetes da hipocrisia&lt;br /&gt;Sentados em um divã&lt;br /&gt;Sem ninguém a nos ouvir&lt;br /&gt;Ambulantes em um vão&lt;br /&gt;Imaginando melhoras&lt;br /&gt;Cavando o próprio buraco&lt;br /&gt;Vítimas e cúmplices&lt;br /&gt;Condenados a cada 4 anos&lt;br /&gt;E assim segue o Brasil...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="430" height="347"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oM92MRo6zhs?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;color1=0x006699&amp;amp;color2=0x54abd6"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oM92MRo6zhs?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;color1=0x006699&amp;amp;color2=0x54abd6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="430" height="347"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-8463896982387882322?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5htRu6O4R_S0Uqmv2x1orzNL8wQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5htRu6O4R_S0Uqmv2x1orzNL8wQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/5xynWlX-PVI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/8463896982387882322/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/brasil.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/8463896982387882322?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/8463896982387882322?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/5xynWlX-PVI/brasil.html" title="Brasil" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TL0CcLLhynI/AAAAAAAAAJg/Y7JM8wVLkFE/s72-c/brasil.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/brasil.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcAR34yeCp7ImA9Wx5UEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-8310212092221027926</id><published>2010-10-15T01:29:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-15T01:30:46.090-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-15T01:30:46.090-03:00</app:edited><title>Condenação</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TLfY7nP1PpI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/62lS0PTRgsE/s1600/julgamento.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 288px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TLfY7nP1PpI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/62lS0PTRgsE/s320/julgamento.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528125586279841426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma causa perdida?&lt;br /&gt;Talvez.&lt;br /&gt;Uma luta irreal&lt;br /&gt;A batalha de uma via&lt;br /&gt;Sofrendo perdas&lt;br /&gt;Vencendo a própria mente&lt;br /&gt;Um direito divino&lt;br /&gt;Revogado aos fracos&lt;br /&gt;A desesperança nos cerca&lt;br /&gt;Dominados, dormimos&lt;br /&gt;Uma só condenação: amar.&lt;br /&gt;Subjetivando.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-8310212092221027926?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wBlBRwHJDFNW6-OryLZaVGL5dRs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wBlBRwHJDFNW6-OryLZaVGL5dRs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/8u04qr6VMXM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/8310212092221027926/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/condenacao.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/8310212092221027926?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/8310212092221027926?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/8u04qr6VMXM/condenacao.html" title="Condenação" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TLfY7nP1PpI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/62lS0PTRgsE/s72-c/julgamento.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/condenacao.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMCR3s-fyp7ImA9Wx5UEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-1385836146270011816</id><published>2010-10-14T23:48:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-15T00:14:26.557-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-15T00:14:26.557-03:00</app:edited><title>Tropa de Elite 2</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TLfF7r4-75I/AAAAAAAAAJI/5gOk15OQjS8/s1600/tropadeelite1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TLfF7r4-75I/AAAAAAAAAJI/5gOk15OQjS8/s320/tropadeelite1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528104696805257106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A segurança e a política brasileiras estão corrompidas e andando de mãos dadas." É exatamente com essa frase que podemos resumir Tropa de Elite 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O filme dirigido por José Padilha deve voltar a ser assunto nacional após expôr com excelência a realidade do país.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Com mais uma atuação memorável de Wagner Moura, o longa torna-se o pricipal expoente brasileira em uma possível briga pelo Oscar de melhor filme extrangeiro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se a terceira edição subir o nível das críticas, José Padilha pode se preparar para o exílio. Isso é claro se Dilma Roussef se elejer e concretizar sua eminente "ditadura populista".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caso contrário, vamos comemorar um dos excassos sucessos nacionais.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aqui é faca na caveira!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="430" height="347"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gsZP9ZX3fsI?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;amp;color2=0xcd311b"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gsZP9ZX3fsI?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;amp;color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="430" height="347"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-1385836146270011816?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OomGSdyJAcvMVqi4PRy4N_cdjbI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OomGSdyJAcvMVqi4PRy4N_cdjbI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OomGSdyJAcvMVqi4PRy4N_cdjbI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OomGSdyJAcvMVqi4PRy4N_cdjbI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/bKJOpUdgtPs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/1385836146270011816/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/tropa-de-elite-2.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/1385836146270011816?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/1385836146270011816?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/bKJOpUdgtPs/tropa-de-elite-2.html" title="Tropa de Elite 2" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TLfF7r4-75I/AAAAAAAAAJI/5gOk15OQjS8/s72-c/tropadeelite1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/tropa-de-elite-2.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cCSXw4eCp7ImA9Wx5bFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-3442293812937898909</id><published>2010-10-13T22:51:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T16:11:08.230-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-01T16:11:08.230-02:00</app:edited><title>Politicamente Incorreto</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TM8CrWU3HrI/AAAAAAAAAJw/WDHZYjW-yow/s1600/20081003_brasil_ditadura.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 254px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TM8CrWU3HrI/AAAAAAAAAJw/WDHZYjW-yow/s320/20081003_brasil_ditadura.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534645410812337842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O dia 31 de março de 1964 ficou marcado pelo início do Regime Militar brasileiro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A "&lt;em&gt;Revolução&lt;/em&gt;", como era chamada pelo seu principal expoente, Marechal Castelo Branco, deu início ao período de maior recriminação e censura de nosso país.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os conhecidos &lt;em&gt;Anos de Chumbo&lt;/em&gt;,tornaram-se décadas de medo e sofrimento para a população. A "&lt;em&gt;ameaça comunista iminente&lt;/em&gt;" servia de pretexto para torturas e criação de Atos Institucionais que davam cada vez mais autonomia aos governates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Órgãos para controle e manipulação da imprensa e da população foram criados. Manifestações públicas contra o governo eclodiam e eram massacradas de forma irracional e desumana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dentre os governantes brasileiros deste período, um se destaca e hoje é posto à comparação com nosso atual governante Lula: Emílio Garrastazu Médici.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O governo Médici, investiu boa parte de seus faturamentos em propagandas institucionais, levando ao público uma imagem embaçada do que realmente acontecia com o país.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A criação do Plano Nacional de Desenvolvimento pelo minisro do desenvolvimento Delfim Neto, trouxe crescimento de estatais e principalmente do capital extrangeiro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Petrobrás, Vale do Rio Doce e Telebrás tiveram crescimento invejado e nada podia contrariar tal imagem, quer pelo controle da imprensa, quanto pela forte propaganda do "milagre econômico" brasileiro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O governo justificava suas crueldades e censura com crescimento do PIB e o surgimento de uma nova classe média.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De forma extremamente inteligente o governo utilizava-se de movimentos rurais para ter medidas militares aceitas e apoiadas. Movimentos sociais como os Sem Terra, MST, seriam armas importantes, sendo apoiados e depois excluídos do processo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“O princípio básico estratégico da organização é o de desencadear, tanto nas cidades como no campo, um volume tal de ações, que o governo se veja obrigado a transformar a situação política do País em uma situação militar, destruindo a máquina burocrático- militar do Estado e substituindo-a pelo povo armado. A guerrilha urbana exercerá um papel tático em face da guerrilha rural, servindo de instrumento de inquietação, distração e retenção das forças armadas, para diminuir a concentração nas operações repressivas contra a guerrilha rural." &lt;/em&gt;Carlos Marighella&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Atualmente se vê uma situação muito parecida: investimento massivo em propaganda pró governo, criação do PAC, apoio a movimentos sociais, aumento do poderio econômico das classes subjacentes, controle e censura da imprensa, total descontrole e imparcialidade governamental.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O grande problema pós "milagre econômico" é a recessão. Por mais duradouro que seja o período festivo e pacificatório, o que se segue a ele é sempre conturbado e explosivo. Infelizmente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A expansão artifical do crédito logo trará problemas sérios ao Brasil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.: Não contesto o questionável crescimento brasileiro durante o governo Lula, da mesma forma como não apoio todas as medidas do governo FHC e espero estar errado quanto ao pessímo diagnóstico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="430" height="347"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/t-Ie4KPToUI?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/t-Ie4KPToUI?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="430" height="347"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-3442293812937898909?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/i3iBxy5PTgSvW0FX1bpI9fcoslk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/i3iBxy5PTgSvW0FX1bpI9fcoslk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/a4Z0s4dHTYk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/1601581799768011160/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/god-says.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/1601581799768011160?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/1601581799768011160?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/a4Z0s4dHTYk/god-says.html" title="God says" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TLXH6kHWROI/AAAAAAAAAJA/na6GvvCfNbU/s72-c/sol_g.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/god-says.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcFQ3Y5eCp7ImA9Wx5VFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-9015002444977921906</id><published>2010-10-07T00:33:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T01:00:12.820-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-07T01:00:12.820-03:00</app:edited><title>Acróstico</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TK1Fxx1wTDI/AAAAAAAAAI4/LdBSBX9mvEA/s1600/amor_e_sexualidade.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TK1Fxx1wTDI/AAAAAAAAAI4/LdBSBX9mvEA/s320/amor_e_sexualidade.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525149039348173874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rima perfeita&lt;br /&gt;Além do que sonhei&lt;br /&gt;Instinto cego&lt;br /&gt;Sede sem fim&lt;br /&gt;Sigo nessa sina:&lt;br /&gt;Amor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mais do que imaginei&lt;br /&gt;Encontro em você minha razão&lt;br /&gt;Um motivo de felicidade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Algo único&lt;br /&gt;Morando em meu peito&lt;br /&gt;Onde viverá eternamente&lt;br /&gt;Repetindo para sempre:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-9015002444977921906?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GwtOqONU1kDyLcoaqRqOQjLVBLU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GwtOqONU1kDyLcoaqRqOQjLVBLU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/v2xft4oou5o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/9015002444977921906/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/acrostico.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/9015002444977921906?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/9015002444977921906?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/v2xft4oou5o/acrostico.html" title="Acróstico" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TK1Fxx1wTDI/AAAAAAAAAI4/LdBSBX9mvEA/s72-c/amor_e_sexualidade.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/acrostico.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkYDQHY9cCp7ImA9Wx5VFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-3609066371894564906</id><published>2010-10-07T00:23:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T01:02:51.868-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-07T01:02:51.868-03:00</app:edited><title>Um segredo</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TK0-9qsQA8I/AAAAAAAAAIg/eTKzncdsGBA/s1600/segredo.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TK0-9qsQA8I/AAAAAAAAAIg/eTKzncdsGBA/s320/segredo.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525141547006297026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preciso te contar um segredo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu nunca quis passar um segundo ao seu lado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já disse que torci por você, não acredite, isso não aconteceu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se algum dia eu disse que gosto de você, me desculpe, era mentira.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sabe o porquê disso?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque eu não quero um segundo, quero uma eternidade ao seu lado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nunca torci por você, pois você já é o motivo de minha crença e de minhas presses todos os dias.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas a última frase, cada dia se torna mais real: Não gosto de você...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu te amo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nunca se esqueça disso...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para R.P.D.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-3609066371894564906?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FHuK1kcR8jo_K6YdquIc6bY9Jak/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FHuK1kcR8jo_K6YdquIc6bY9Jak/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/Xypw9KqMI3s" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/3609066371894564906/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/um-segredo.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/3609066371894564906?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/3609066371894564906?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/Xypw9KqMI3s/um-segredo.html" title="Um segredo" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TK0-9qsQA8I/AAAAAAAAAIg/eTKzncdsGBA/s72-c/segredo.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/um-segredo.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkIBQ3c9fyp7ImA9Wx5UEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-6309124390727138832</id><published>2010-10-06T00:15:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-15T01:55:52.967-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-15T01:55:52.967-03:00</app:edited><title>Se eu fosse um espermatozóide...</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TLfdpt3r5II/AAAAAAAAAJY/NOjiThxT-Ek/s1600/espermatozoide.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 227px; height: 314px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TLfdpt3r5II/AAAAAAAAAJY/NOjiThxT-Ek/s320/espermatozoide.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528130776378107010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se eu fosse um espermatozóide pensaria duas vezes antes de fecundar um óvulo em 2011.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Talvez valha à pena. Se eu for filho de um grande banqueiro, empresário, concerteza teremos os privilégios que o a futura presidente nos dará. Seremos ricos e cada vez mais ricos. Se eu for filho de alguém da classe média, minha vida será complicada. Vou ter que conviver sem perspectivas de crescer. Afinal o governo, só se preocupa em enriquecer quem já tem dinheiro e iludir os que não tem nada. Mas e se eu for pobre? Ah, aí concerteza vai valer à pena eu nascer. Serei um boneco civil. Vou pensar que tudo em meu país está indo bem, afinal, eu acredito em qualquer coisa que me digam."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Pensando bem, acho que vou ficar por aqui mesmo. Melhor viver em um saco do que num c*!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pena que no fim vai dar PT, perda total..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="430" height="347"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KrAX5iQ64wo?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;color1=0x006699&amp;amp;color2=0x54abd6"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KrAX5iQ64wo?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;color1=0x006699&amp;amp;color2=0x54abd6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="430" height="347"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-6309124390727138832?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/L9UF6kz7ezUJnsLBkp_alyO5eCw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/L9UF6kz7ezUJnsLBkp_alyO5eCw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/e1oMFBHlz-o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/6309124390727138832/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/se-eu-fosse-um-espermatozoide.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/6309124390727138832?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/6309124390727138832?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/e1oMFBHlz-o/se-eu-fosse-um-espermatozoide.html" title="Se eu fosse um espermatozóide..." /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TLfdpt3r5II/AAAAAAAAAJY/NOjiThxT-Ek/s72-c/espermatozoide.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/se-eu-fosse-um-espermatozoide.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkICQH05eip7ImA9Wx5VEUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-1021929243025362378</id><published>2010-10-04T01:53:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T02:02:41.322-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-04T02:02:41.322-03:00</app:edited><title>Comer, rezar e amar - Eat, pray, love</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TKlf6pKBi5I/AAAAAAAAAIY/u9_BWPTHOaw/s1600/Comer-Rezar-e-Amar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TKlf6pKBi5I/AAAAAAAAAIY/u9_BWPTHOaw/s320/Comer-Rezar-e-Amar.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524051879031573394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julia Roberts volta às telas de forma deslumbrante.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na trama, Julia interpreta Liz Gilbert, uma escritora norte americana sufocada pelo casamento e pelo trabalho. Na busca por uma mudança de ares, Liz descobre três formas de se reencontrar e alcançar seu equilíbrio: Comer, rezar e amar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O filme mescla drama e comédia de uma forma muito sutil, agradando com facilidade todo tipo de público.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vale à pena conferir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="430" height="275"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/cji7pUWhBi8?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;color1=0x006699&amp;amp;color2=0x54abd6&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/cji7pUWhBi8?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;color1=0x006699&amp;amp;color2=0x54abd6&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="430" height="275"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-1021929243025362378?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hhgQsJ38zqcX0oF6D75JOR0PKJA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hhgQsJ38zqcX0oF6D75JOR0PKJA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/oTaPyuRow48" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/1021929243025362378/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/comer-rezar-e-amar-eat-pray-love.html#comment-form" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/1021929243025362378?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/1021929243025362378?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/oTaPyuRow48/comer-rezar-e-amar-eat-pray-love.html" title="Comer, rezar e amar - Eat, pray, love" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TKlf6pKBi5I/AAAAAAAAAIY/u9_BWPTHOaw/s72-c/Comer-Rezar-e-Amar.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/comer-rezar-e-amar-eat-pray-love.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUMNRno8fCp7ImA9Wx5VEUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-3677679137806523842</id><published>2010-10-04T00:08:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T00:38:17.474-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-04T00:38:17.474-03:00</app:edited><title>Amizade</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TKlLe6HxG_I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/I6wJQDk_eAE/s1600/onibus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TKlLe6HxG_I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/I6wJQDk_eAE/s320/onibus.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524029412316617714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por vezes me vejo envolto a pensamentos. Na escuridão uma frase me vem à cabeça e tudo se acende: "Es pens cons é des." Sim, isso mesmo. Não é latim ou hebraico, é "mineirês". E o significado é muito maior do que "Eles pensam que o ônibus é deles". Para mim, significa Amizade. Pura e louca, da maneira mais àvessa que se possa imaginar. Amizade distante que aos poucos se tornou próxima.. ao coração.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E se eles pensam que o "ons é des". Eles estão enganaos. Ele é nosso!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amigos de verdade ficam para sempre...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obrigado por tudo "Maninho".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-3677679137806523842?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aQDMJI63LZOziaka-AorROC-oec/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aQDMJI63LZOziaka-AorROC-oec/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/yJYJSNVpFr8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/3677679137806523842/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/amizade.html#comment-form" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/3677679137806523842?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/3677679137806523842?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/yJYJSNVpFr8/amizade.html" title="Amizade" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TKlLe6HxG_I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/I6wJQDk_eAE/s72-c/onibus.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/amizade.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0EARXw4eip7ImA9Wx5VEUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-5579563862712277119</id><published>2010-10-03T23:07:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T23:34:04.232-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-03T23:34:04.232-03:00</app:edited><title>Ignorancia Romantica</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TKk8gc9_ruI/AAAAAAAAAIA/1zj4QZMJWZU/s1600/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TKk8gc9_ruI/AAAAAAAAAIA/1zj4QZMJWZU/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524012946176323298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O poeta se sustenta de sua ignorância perante si mesmo. Uma auto flagelação mental. A dúvida persiste até no que é mais real. Nos sentimentos infundados, nas medidas inexatas, nas lembranças incontidas: o Amor. Se ele existe? Minha mente diz que jamais vou entendê-lo. Meu coração diz que não preciso. Um beijo e minha alma desmantela-se. A pergunta se desfaz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amo!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-5579563862712277119?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/s1DXRtOZRd7_xmlH3xPCJzXjGTI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/s1DXRtOZRd7_xmlH3xPCJzXjGTI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~4/TIsvXN55OYM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/feeds/5579563862712277119/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/ignorancia-romantica.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/5579563862712277119?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7277480760141283986/posts/default/5579563862712277119?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/PenseiCaiuNaRede/~3/TIsvXN55OYM/ignorancia-romantica.html" title="Ignorancia Romantica" /><author><name>Renato Sardinha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14929970965051319190</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="13215249120829412940" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TKk8gc9_ruI/AAAAAAAAAIA/1zj4QZMJWZU/s72-c/untitled.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com/2010/10/ignorancia-romantica.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4DRX49fip7ImA9Wx5VEUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7277480760141283986.post-7939710592909682506</id><published>2010-10-03T22:52:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T23:06:14.066-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-03T23:06:14.066-03:00</app:edited><title>Encruzilhada</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TKk2j_1RAvI/AAAAAAAAAH4/2Tw6mL6IKj8/s1600/encruzilhada.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 188px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0UBmlA7z5EY/TKk2j_1RAvI/AAAAAAAAAH4/2Tw6mL6IKj8/s320/encruzilhada.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524006410004792050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem nunca se viu em uma encruzilhada?&lt;br /&gt;Duas estradas completamente diferentes que levam a destinos e desatinos. Era assim que eu me encontrava. As interrogações me perseguiam. Não havia um "norte". O que se via eram ilusões e sonhos que jamais seriam alcançados. A vida pedia por uma resposta, uma decisão imprevista tomava forma. O passado começa a se tornar o presente e o futuro. E quem sabe, o fim - diz o pessimismo.&lt;br /&gt;O futuro, antes inóspito em meus pensamentos, começa a tomar forma: branco!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7277480760141283986-7939710592909682506?l=penseicaiunarede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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