tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85543054550082880292012-05-24T10:47:57.672-03:00Textos e contextos, frases e fases!VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comBlogger733125http://a3.twimg.com/profile_images/1223688413/23085_100000558858220_5984_q_normal.jpgvitalveshttp://feedburner.google.comSubscribe with My Yahoo!Subscribe with NewsGatorSubscribe with My AOLSubscribe with BloglinesSubscribe with NetvibesSubscribe with GoogleSubscribe with PageflakesSubscribe with PlusmoSubscribe with The Free DictionarySubscribe with Bitty BrowserSubscribe with NewsAlloySubscribe with Live.comSubscribe with Excite MIXSubscribe with Attensa for OutlookSubscribe with WebwagSubscribe with Podcast ReadySubscribe with FlurrySubscribe with WikioSubscribe with Daily Rotationtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-35676364932894217712012-05-23T22:51:00.000-03:002012-05-23T22:51:13.054-03:002012-05-23T22:51:13.054-03:00<img align="right" alt="Os buracos do espelho" border="0" height="130" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_-15zYFeNj7s/TVPIrhO9eiI/AAAAAAAAGaA/BwlvoZJrZH4/buraco%20no%20espelho%5B8%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px none; display: inline; margin: 0px;" title="Os buracos do espelho" width="130"> O buraco do espelho está fechado, <br> agora eu tenho que ficar aqui <br> com um olho aberto, outro acordado <br> no lado de lá onde eu caí. <br> <br> Pro lado de cá não tem acesso, <br> mesmo que me chamem pelo nome, <br> mesmo que admitam meu regresso, <br> toda vez que eu vou a porta some. <br> <a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/02/os-buracos-do-espelho-arnaldo-antunes.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-3567636493289421771?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8wMQnMbv0gvccCeZX2krftk7AX8/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8wMQnMbv0gvccCeZX2krftk7AX8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8wMQnMbv0gvccCeZX2krftk7AX8/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8wMQnMbv0gvccCeZX2krftk7AX8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=gMksvpbKQ6M:ooPzUGmwi9k:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/gMksvpbKQ6M" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/02/os-buracos-do-espelho-arnaldo-antunes.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-22353797994682896182012-05-15T21:53:00.000-03:002012-05-15T21:53:14.444-03:002012-05-15T21:53:14.444-03:00<img align="right" alt="O tempo seca o amor" border="0" height="130" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_-15zYFeNj7s/TSrm5gIyYBI/AAAAAAAAGWs/i08AdaAU9Co/O%20tempo%20seca%20o%20amor%5B7%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px none; display: inline; margin: 5px 0px;" title="O tempo seca o amor" width="130"> O tempo seca a beleza, <br>seca o amor, seca as palavras. <br>Deixa tudo solto, leve, <br>desunido para sempre <br>como as areias nas águas. <br> O tempo seca a saudade, <br>seca as lembranças e as lágrimas. <br> <a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/01/o-tempo-seca-o-amor-cecilia-meireles.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-2235379799468289618?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7UtQNLqUgVYUb48lpunr8HYtATY/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7UtQNLqUgVYUb48lpunr8HYtATY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7UtQNLqUgVYUb48lpunr8HYtATY/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7UtQNLqUgVYUb48lpunr8HYtATY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=9DBBjqblZec:EaMSGpKtPkg:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/9DBBjqblZec" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/01/o-tempo-seca-o-amor-cecilia-meireles.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-52160493654056896092012-05-13T16:57:00.001-03:002012-05-13T16:57:52.602-03:002012-05-13T16:57:52.602-03:00<p><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 5px 0px 10px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="A saudade e o tempo" border="0" alt="A saudade e o tempo" align="right" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9KvUy5HCr-8/T7ASP-lmbWI/AAAAAAAATH8/zWhvC40NNAM/A%252520saudade%252520e%252520o%252520tempo%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="130" height="130"> Eita tempo que não passa! <br>Ah, saudade que no peito me dói! <br>Saudade que me deixa sem graça, <br>Tempo que minha paciência destrói... </p> <p>Ó, Tempo!... deixa de pirraça <br>E sê para sempre o meu herói! <br>Ó, Saudade!... não sejas a desgraça <br>Que o meu coração corrói! </p><a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2012/05/o-tempo-e-saudade-joesio-menezes.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-5216049365405689609?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jrvkzzQWnd-6pxB1oXmMqjJpIbQ/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jrvkzzQWnd-6pxB1oXmMqjJpIbQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jrvkzzQWnd-6pxB1oXmMqjJpIbQ/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jrvkzzQWnd-6pxB1oXmMqjJpIbQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=b2Sru-EpmYQ:y7A785908Ps:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/b2Sru-EpmYQ" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2012/05/o-tempo-e-saudade-joesio-menezes.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-76627732956164219252012-05-10T22:45:00.000-03:002012-05-10T22:45:23.393-03:002012-05-10T22:45:23.393-03:00<img align="right" alt="temo por meus olhos" border="0" height="130" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-15zYFeNj7s/TUb2YMzZD0I/AAAAAAAAGZM/LLPUv5ocsPY/temo%20por%20meus%20olhos%5B8%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px none; display: inline; margin: 0px 0px 5px;" title="temo por meus olhos" width="130"> Temo por meus olhos <br>diante das puras vestes. <br>E no entretanto, desejo. <br> Temor que sugere o epílogo <br>de ser cântaro partido <br>ao lado de fonte pródiga. <br> A não contemplar, prefiro <br>definitiva cegueira.<br> <a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/01/temo-por-meus-olhos-thiago-de-mello.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-7662773295616421925?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/c64IBU2AXcgUQeG4xFagrdaz_48/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/c64IBU2AXcgUQeG4xFagrdaz_48/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/c64IBU2AXcgUQeG4xFagrdaz_48/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/c64IBU2AXcgUQeG4xFagrdaz_48/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=ncr6wyMllNs:nBr501xGLF8:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/ncr6wyMllNs" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/01/temo-por-meus-olhos-thiago-de-mello.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-77189012229852772542012-05-06T22:39:00.000-03:002012-05-06T22:39:04.170-03:002012-05-06T22:39:04.170-03:00<div style="text-align: justify;"> <img align="right" alt="A dor" border="0" height="130" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-15zYFeNj7s/TcSY_gEJ_xI/AAAAAAAAGoE/0wIzj-Sd9-E/A%20dor%5B8%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px none; display: inline; margin: 5px 0px 10px;" title="A dor" width="130"> Assim se forma uma alma rarefeita: <br>com espelho, com ninguém, com retrato, <br>sem homens, sem Partido, sem verdade, <br>com sussurro, com ciúmes, com distância, <br>sem companheiro, sem razão, sem canto, <br>com armas, com silêncio, com papéis, <br>sem povo, sem consulta, sem sorriso, <br>com espias, com sombras e com sangue,</div> <a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/05/dor-pablo-neruda.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-7718901222985277254?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FJg5QNNpGGqx4fQ16Nh6SbqkQuQ/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FJg5QNNpGGqx4fQ16Nh6SbqkQuQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FJg5QNNpGGqx4fQ16Nh6SbqkQuQ/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FJg5QNNpGGqx4fQ16Nh6SbqkQuQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=WXmECly6DJ0:ZVfnWTVUE8g:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/WXmECly6DJ0" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/05/dor-pablo-neruda.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-82862641645549402522012-05-03T22:51:00.001-03:002012-05-03T22:51:52.012-03:002012-05-03T22:51:52.012-03:00<img align="right" alt="O avesso" border="0" height="130" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-DWJm3247w-4/T6M1Rkv0GtI/AAAAAAAAS8w/lgsnI2AhkaE/O%252520avesso%25255B2%25255D.png?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline; margin: 0px 0px 10px;" title="O avesso" width="130"> Tem dias que acordamos cedo porque <br> o sono cansou de dormir... <br> Tem dias que saímos de casa porque <br> o cômodo tornou-se desconfortante... <br> Tem dias que xingamos demais porque<br> a educação nunca manda lembranças... <br> Tem dias que a saudade está tão absurda que<br> <a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2012/05/o-avesso-patricia-ximenes.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-8286264164554940252?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VU24unwhRsrD2WJK6dvOo-d6Un0/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VU24unwhRsrD2WJK6dvOo-d6Un0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VU24unwhRsrD2WJK6dvOo-d6Un0/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VU24unwhRsrD2WJK6dvOo-d6Un0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=Vz-UpTcCZzs:EAvOBYI7Gak:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/Vz-UpTcCZzs" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2012/05/o-avesso-patricia-ximenes.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-1897235365938877432012-05-02T22:29:00.000-03:002012-05-02T22:29:02.144-03:002012-05-02T22:29:02.144-03:00<div style="text-align: justify;"> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Re3mlZBRc1U/TjvaDGfhw-I/AAAAAAAAJZs/bgE13bfqIH0/s1600-h/Amigos..%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="Amigos.." border="0" height="131" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-1CbO9Ki_ti0/TjvaDxFdj5I/AAAAAAAAJZw/IUpM-4oDfHs/Amigos.._thumb%25255B12%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px;" title="Amigos.." width="131"></a> São tantos os amigos, tantas as histórias pra contar, tantos tombos e risadas. Tem amigo que aparece todo dia e quando não aparece telefona. Tem amigo que eu fiz na fila do banco e que se faz presente até hoje. Tem amigo que aparece só no dia do meu aniversário, mas isto prova que ele não esqueceu de mim. Tem amigo da faculdade, que passa cola, que mata aula junto e que passa aperto junto. Tem amigo que aguenta a choradeira, os dias ruins, a melancolia, e até minha TPM.</div> <a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/08/amigos-maria-rita-avelar.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-189723536593887743?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/t4AVm_O_YmtIrsAnnoJggrIG7Uc/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/t4AVm_O_YmtIrsAnnoJggrIG7Uc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/t4AVm_O_YmtIrsAnnoJggrIG7Uc/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/t4AVm_O_YmtIrsAnnoJggrIG7Uc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=v_e1-GgkbF4:qy_hsgjJ6MM:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/v_e1-GgkbF4" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/08/amigos-maria-rita-avelar.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-72524208846506116782012-04-29T18:37:00.000-03:002012-04-29T18:37:17.371-03:002012-04-29T18:37:17.371-03:00<div align="justify"> <img align="right" alt="Culpa" border="0" height="131" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-GS4OrYEmTBs/TdsQrdFEIEI/AAAAAAAAGto/KwJwNya2Efk/Culpa%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px none; display: inline; margin: 5px 0px 10px 20px;" title="Culpa" width="131"> Culpa! Culpa! Culpa! Sempre a palavra culpa, essa marca que algum diabo inculcou no ser humano. Faz parte dos genes dele. Culpa. Somos, todos, semoventes tristes, perseguidos por culpas reais, irreais, fantásticas, conscientes, inconscientes, verdadeiras, falsas, impostas pelos outros. Culpa! Culpa! Culpa! Todos se culpam ou culpam os demais. Culpar-se, preferência mundial... </div> <a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/05/culpa-arthur-da-tavola.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-7252420884650611678?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9TwodoIzIQPvZ9sYD65JwWXPJQY/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9TwodoIzIQPvZ9sYD65JwWXPJQY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9TwodoIzIQPvZ9sYD65JwWXPJQY/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9TwodoIzIQPvZ9sYD65JwWXPJQY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=fxdwON2fuK8:LFlJ8Km6wL8:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/fxdwON2fuK8" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/05/culpa-arthur-da-tavola.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-39208304362118317462012-04-25T21:54:00.000-03:002012-04-25T21:54:24.704-03:002012-04-25T21:54:24.704-03:00<div style="text-align: justify;"> <img align="right" alt="Nem tudo é fácil" border="0" height="130" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_-15zYFeNj7s/TYsuJR74ieI/AAAAAAAAGdo/jUIbUEu-xu8/Nemtudo%20%C3%A9%20f%C3%A1cil%5B6%5D.png?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline; margin: 0px 0px 5px 15px;" title="Nem tudo é fácil" width="130"> É difícil fazer alguém feliz, assim como é fácil fazer triste. </div> <div style="text-align: justify;"> É difícil dizer eu te amo, assim como é fácil não dizer nada. </div> <div style="text-align: justify;"> É difícil agradecer pelo dia de hoje, assim como é fácil viver mais um dia. </div> <div style="text-align: justify;"> É difícil enxergar o que a vida traz de bom, assim como é fácil fechar os olhos e atravessar a rua. </div> <div style="text-align: justify;"> É difícil se convencer de que se é feliz, assim como é fácil achar que sempre falta algo. </div> <a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/03/nem-tudo-e-facil-cecilia-meireles.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-3920830436211831746?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0q2QZEDDx4AVpKBRczd9Dxq30eM/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0q2QZEDDx4AVpKBRczd9Dxq30eM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0q2QZEDDx4AVpKBRczd9Dxq30eM/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0q2QZEDDx4AVpKBRczd9Dxq30eM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=dURl49e18dM:oph-MCvAmVo:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/dURl49e18dM" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/03/nem-tudo-e-facil-cecilia-meireles.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-32942991299336585382012-04-22T16:25:00.000-03:002012-04-22T16:25:11.080-03:002012-04-22T16:25:11.080-03:00<div align="justify"><img align="right" alt="Também já fui brasileiro." border="0" height="130" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-15zYFeNj7s/Tb4Xh_iSF6I/AAAAAAAAGm4/fQBQ6CJYQwo/Tamb%C3%A9m%20j%C3%A1%20fui%20brasileiro.%5B7%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px none; display: inline; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;" title="Também já fui brasileiro." width="130"> Eu também já fui brasileiro <br> moreno como vocês. <br> Ponteei viola, guiei forde <br> e aprendi na mesa dos bares <br> que o nacionalismo é uma virtude. <br> Mas há uma hora em que os bares se fecham <br> e todas as virtudes se negam. </div><a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/05/tambem-ja-fui-brasileiro-carlos.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-3294299129933658538?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/30Gl6_LuUzRP3dmskgbWgitAZ-M/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/30Gl6_LuUzRP3dmskgbWgitAZ-M/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/30Gl6_LuUzRP3dmskgbWgitAZ-M/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/30Gl6_LuUzRP3dmskgbWgitAZ-M/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=GxnTuIcgcvc:qz7iZWgmPr8:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/GxnTuIcgcvc" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/05/tambem-ja-fui-brasileiro-carlos.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-76791994751769595442012-04-21T21:40:00.001-03:002012-04-21T21:40:20.516-03:002012-04-21T21:40:20.516-03:00<p align="justify"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="Para se roubar um coração" border="0" alt="Para se roubar um coração" align="right" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-NX9OtbCxcho/T5NTcwxdXiI/AAAAAAAASsY/Nyb5bniSc-w/Para%252520se%252520roubar%252520um%252520cora%2525C3%2525A7%2525C3%2525A3o%25255B9%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="130" height="130"> Para se roubar um coração, é preciso que seja com muita habilidade, tem que ser vagarosamente, disfarçadamente, não se chega com ímpeto, não se alcança o coração de alguém com pressa. </p> <p align="justify">Tem que se aproximar com meias palavras, suavemente, apoderar-se dele aos poucos, com cuidado. </p><a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2012/04/para-se-roubar-um-coracao-luis-fernando.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-7679199475176959544?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xVP1hV8AZ2DLICRpNO1XyZspmcs/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xVP1hV8AZ2DLICRpNO1XyZspmcs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xVP1hV8AZ2DLICRpNO1XyZspmcs/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xVP1hV8AZ2DLICRpNO1XyZspmcs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=Zo0nWJ3weBI:YlJLrlms7zo:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/Zo0nWJ3weBI" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2012/04/para-se-roubar-um-coracao-luis-fernando.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-37757915682415970582012-04-18T21:57:00.000-03:002012-04-18T21:57:25.891-03:002012-04-18T21:57:25.891-03:00<img align="right" alt="Clara" border="0" height="130" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-15zYFeNj7s/TYsoG6G7CEI/AAAAAAAAGdg/WBO4DNRRijw/Clara%5B8%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline; margin: 0px 0px 5px;" title="Clara" width="130"> Não sabes, Clara, que pena <br> eu teria se — morena <br> tu fosses em vez de clara!<br> <br> Talvez... quem sabe... não digo... <br> mas refletindo comigo <br> talvez nem tanto te amara! <a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/03/clara-casimiro-de-abreu.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-3775791568241597058?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DTOPLuG2Rc21NykuxxecSHg-BzI/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DTOPLuG2Rc21NykuxxecSHg-BzI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DTOPLuG2Rc21NykuxxecSHg-BzI/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DTOPLuG2Rc21NykuxxecSHg-BzI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=fM_65GUXeLs:k187kcJuNu8:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/fM_65GUXeLs" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/03/clara-casimiro-de-abreu.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-33067461738891959552012-04-15T17:05:00.001-03:002012-04-15T17:05:31.223-03:002012-04-15T17:05:31.223-03:00<p align="justify"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 10px 0px 10px 20px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="Subir pelo lado que desce" border="0" alt="Subir pelo lado que desce" align="right" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xXTvyU_mAzM/T4sqCgzDAqI/AAAAAAAASkA/I6rmcDU_4Fw/Subir%252520pelo%252520lado%252520que%252520desce%25255B5%25255D.gif?imgmax=800" width="130" height="130"> Viver é subir uma escada rolante pelo lado que desce. Ouvindo esta frase, imaginei qualquer pessoa nessa acrobacia que as crianças fazem ou tentam fazer: escalar aqueles degraus que nos puxam inexoravelmente para baixo. Perigo, loucura, inocência, ou uma boa metáfora do que fazemos diariamente? Poucas vezes me deram um símbolo tão adequado para a vida, sobretudo naqueles períodos difíceis em que até pensar em sair da cama dá vontade de desistir.</p><a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2012/04/subir-pelo-lado-que-desce-lya-luft.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-3306746173889195955?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BSAv7FrrpArwVQqecqtoEQcMlzo/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BSAv7FrrpArwVQqecqtoEQcMlzo/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BSAv7FrrpArwVQqecqtoEQcMlzo/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BSAv7FrrpArwVQqecqtoEQcMlzo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=yOGkOUkdQDk:ApZvGUWM_F0:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/yOGkOUkdQDk" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2012/04/subir-pelo-lado-que-desce-lya-luft.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-91113082710072062922012-04-13T22:03:00.000-03:002012-04-13T22:03:00.876-03:002012-04-13T22:03:00.876-03:00<div align="justify"><img align="right" alt="Promessas de casamento" border="0" height="130" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_-15zYFeNj7s/TQdd_cFIb5I/AAAAAAAAGUU/eFa-v4qemlo/Promessas%20de%20casamento%5B8%5D.gif?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px none; display: inline; margin: 0px 0px 5px 5px;" title="Promessas de casamento" width="130"> Em maio de 98, escrevi um texto em que afirmava que achava bonito o ritual do casamento a igreja, com seus vestidos brancos e tapetes vermelhos, mas que a única coisa que me desagradava era o sermão do padre. &quot;Promete ser fiel na alegria e na tristeza, na saúde e na doença, amando-lhe e respeitando-lhe até que a morte os separe?&quot; Acho simplista e um pouco fora da realidade. Dou aqui novas sugestões de sermões: </div><a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2010/12/promessas-de-casamento-martha-medeiros.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-9111308271007206292?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/i6lPqRbdIjWq39uqBTB5VxTPRM0/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/i6lPqRbdIjWq39uqBTB5VxTPRM0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/i6lPqRbdIjWq39uqBTB5VxTPRM0/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/i6lPqRbdIjWq39uqBTB5VxTPRM0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=vRZk-ykx6Fk:kZ3nH4Y-axQ:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/vRZk-ykx6Fk" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2010/12/promessas-de-casamento-martha-medeiros.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-19647154021899288042012-04-11T21:20:00.000-03:002012-04-11T21:20:52.929-03:002012-04-11T21:20:52.929-03:00<div align="justify"><img align="right" alt="Ser feliz" border="0" height="131" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-15zYFeNj7s/TXpTVO5Lv2I/AAAAAAAAGcc/mNlZ8y6ovno/Ser%20feliz%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px none; display: inline; margin: 0px 0px 5px 5px;" title="Ser feliz" width="131"> Ser feliz é sentir o sabor da água, a brisa no rosto, o cheiro da terra molhada. É extrair das pequenas coisas grandes emoções. É encontrar todos os dias motivos para sorrir, mesmo se não existirem grandes fatos. É rir de suas próprias tolices. É não desistir de quem se ama, mesmo se houver decepções. É ter amigos para repartir as lagrimas e dividir as alegrias.</div><a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/03/ser-feliz-augusto-cury.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-1964715402189928804?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7aNZfhokGjXcQKsVAcfty0m6lTA/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7aNZfhokGjXcQKsVAcfty0m6lTA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7aNZfhokGjXcQKsVAcfty0m6lTA/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7aNZfhokGjXcQKsVAcfty0m6lTA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=BIIH34rES6M:6hQzBU0J8UE:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/BIIH34rES6M" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/03/ser-feliz-augusto-cury.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-32757551328680630122012-04-08T18:59:00.000-03:002012-04-08T18:59:36.682-03:002012-04-08T18:59:36.682-03:00<div align="justify"><img align="right" alt="adolescência" border="0" height="130" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_-15zYFeNj7s/TVfYDBZR3HI/AAAAAAAAGaM/Wqu8244rlCM/adolesc%C3%AAncia%5B19%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline; margin: 0px 0px 0px 10px;" title="adolescência" width="130"> A vida é uma maravilhosa caixa de surpresas! <br> Não tenha pressa em viver, mesmo se todos dizem que a vida corre. Deus, na Sua infinita sabedoria, fez tudo a seu tempo e nos dá o tempo necessário para tudo descobrir. <br> As crianças querem crescer depressa, os adolescentes querem ser adultos depressa e os mais vividos gostariam de voltar atrás. E tudo o que todos conseguem com isso é atrapalhar a ordem natural das coisas e é por isso que muitas vezes temos a impressão que o mundo está de cabeça pra baixo. </div><a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/02/adolescencia-leticia-thompson.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-3275755132868063012?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/866TgGLTQfaAaXPqA_z7qTN3zQc/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/866TgGLTQfaAaXPqA_z7qTN3zQc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/866TgGLTQfaAaXPqA_z7qTN3zQc/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/866TgGLTQfaAaXPqA_z7qTN3zQc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=_PbP1OIAteI:L0Y3UGBLZRo:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/_PbP1OIAteI" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/02/adolescencia-leticia-thompson.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-24196586123833291452012-04-08T18:56:00.000-03:002012-04-08T18:56:04.797-03:002012-04-08T18:56:04.797-03:00<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-15zYFeNj7s/Tcksb2zjnpI/AAAAAAAAGoc/gyZXjjExBMY/s1600-h/Devia%20ser%20proibido%5B4%5D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="Devia ser proibido" border="0" height="130" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-15zYFeNj7s/TcksfOkaMRI/AAAAAAAAGog/Gg8kM8FxfU8/Devia%20ser%20proibido_thumb%5B9%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px none; display: inline; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;" title="Devia ser proibido" width="130"></a> Devia ser proibido <br> uma saudade tão má <br> de uma pessoa tão boa <br> falar, gritar, reclamar <br> se a nossa voz não ecoa <br> dizer não vou mais voltar <br> sumir pelo mundo afora <br> alguém com tudo pra dar <br> <a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/05/devia-ser-proibido-alice-ruiz.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-2419658612383329145?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IcLptmetRmoGCudNqtwqKmXqD5k/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IcLptmetRmoGCudNqtwqKmXqD5k/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IcLptmetRmoGCudNqtwqKmXqD5k/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IcLptmetRmoGCudNqtwqKmXqD5k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=ukJ739ciJ0o:Y1XHVQeMteY:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/ukJ739ciJ0o" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/05/devia-ser-proibido-alice-ruiz.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-90057499795023918752012-04-01T09:26:00.001-03:002012-04-01T09:26:07.992-03:002012-04-01T09:26:07.992-03:00<p align="justify"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-gKRI4QMYiEk/T3hJHnEV3KI/AAAAAAAASRs/aDRxX11P3rU/s1600-h/metade%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 7px 10px 6px 4px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: right; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="metade" border="0" alt="metade" align="right" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-dy-_MTRSg0s/T3hJNP-NIiI/AAAAAAAASR0/sytmAjyMon8/metade_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="130" height="130"></a>Que a força do medo que tenho <br>não me impeça de ver o que anseio <br>que a morte de tudo em que acredito <br>não me tape os ouvidos e a boca <br>porque metade de mim é o que eu grito <br>mas a outra metade é silêncio. </p><a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2012/04/metade-ferreira-gullar.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-9005749979502391875?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/V-ZnG7swqesT6gGlmCvHRwVDP3A/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/V-ZnG7swqesT6gGlmCvHRwVDP3A/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/V-ZnG7swqesT6gGlmCvHRwVDP3A/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/V-ZnG7swqesT6gGlmCvHRwVDP3A/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=efxSHK5UQ88:jOkxJ-XTbNg:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/efxSHK5UQ88" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2012/04/metade-ferreira-gullar.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-1435865974319985992012-03-31T13:35:00.001-03:002012-03-31T13:35:06.113-03:002012-03-31T13:35:06.113-03:00<p align="justify"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-_EIMbz-5ueI/T3cyL4PG29I/AAAAAAAASQQ/l6VyBEv_OYs/s1600-h/Medo%252520de%252520anestesia%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 16px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: right; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Medo de anestesia" border="0" alt="Medo de anestesia" align="right" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-GkmYuaerRtI/T3cyOP4PUjI/AAAAAAAASQY/7_9FXU9guwE/Medo%252520de%252520anestesia_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="130" height="130"></a>Há também as dores da alma que nenhuma cirurgia consegue curar. O medo, por exemplo, não pode ser amputado. Pena. Porque o medo paralisa a vida. Dominada pelo medo, a vida se encolhe, perde a capacidade de lutar, entrega-se à morte. Animais amedrontados se deixam matar sem um único gesto de defesa.</p><a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2012/03/medo-de-anestesia-rubem-alves.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-143586597431998599?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/D0eZ8H6wu1wO9NTu_i5iX_l9miE/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/D0eZ8H6wu1wO9NTu_i5iX_l9miE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/D0eZ8H6wu1wO9NTu_i5iX_l9miE/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/D0eZ8H6wu1wO9NTu_i5iX_l9miE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=3oZBJHF5tBE:X_0UHexB8tI:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/3oZBJHF5tBE" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2012/03/medo-de-anestesia-rubem-alves.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-6167426949712285132012-03-28T22:03:00.000-03:002012-03-28T22:03:49.364-03:002012-03-28T22:03:49.364-03:00<div style="text-align: justify;"><img align="right" alt="Benvinda" border="0" height="130" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-15zYFeNj7s/TWefYdr5SrI/AAAAAAAAGbQ/MC7Mkqs9D98/Benvinda%5B10%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px none; display: inline; margin: 0px 0px 5px;" title="Benvinda" width="130"> Dono do abandono e da tristeza. Comunico oficialmente que há um lugar na minha mesa. Pode ser que você venha por mero favor, ou venha coberta de amor. Seja lá como for, venha sorrindo. Ah, benvinda, benvinda, benvinda... Que o luar está chamando, que os jardins estão florindo. Que eu estou sozinho. Cheio de anseio e de esperança, comunico a toda gente. Que há lugar na minha dança. Pode ser que você venha morar por aqui, ou venha pra se despedir.</div><a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/02/benvinda-chico-buarque.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-616742694971228513?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pBebuCQdVTie0NyJZEZONv5Sr1w/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pBebuCQdVTie0NyJZEZONv5Sr1w/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pBebuCQdVTie0NyJZEZONv5Sr1w/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pBebuCQdVTie0NyJZEZONv5Sr1w/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=Zlv12T6HZww:vwcZ7rM0pDw:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/Zlv12T6HZww" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/02/benvinda-chico-buarque.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-45038864569546303772012-03-25T09:03:00.001-03:002012-03-25T09:03:07.151-03:002012-03-25T09:03:07.151-03:00<p align="justify"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-sJ6NQXE-mNM/T28Jcq4XXpI/AAAAAAAASJc/Wc1-qd8sizo/s1600-h/Se%252520eu%252520pudesse%252520voltar%252520no%252520tempo%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 22px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: right; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Se eu pudesse voltar no tempo" border="0" alt="Se eu pudesse voltar no tempo" align="right" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-AtDxnxqqC6Q/T28JeCmllzI/AAAAAAAASJk/CPYhv0Cx7TQ/Se%252520eu%252520pudesse%252520voltar%252520no%252520tempo_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="130" height="130"></a>Eu pularia alguns dias da minha vida <br>Eu jamais moraria na praia <br>Eu nunca viajaria no natal <br>Eu jamais teria me casado <br>Eu te diria muitas vezes “eu te amo” <br>Eu amaria intensamente as pessoas <br>pelas quais eu me apaixonei, sem pudores </p><a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2012/03/se-eu-pudesse-voltar-no-tempo-mario.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-4503886456954630377?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/s6g1qfRbeRqZwOW0U8MM4owGm0M/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/s6g1qfRbeRqZwOW0U8MM4owGm0M/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/s6g1qfRbeRqZwOW0U8MM4owGm0M/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/s6g1qfRbeRqZwOW0U8MM4owGm0M/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=DT4v2cNA-5g:5GP76bQYOPs:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/DT4v2cNA-5g" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2012/03/se-eu-pudesse-voltar-no-tempo-mario.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-45974231273483510272012-03-24T14:21:00.000-03:002012-03-24T14:21:42.077-03:002012-03-24T14:21:42.077-03:00<div align="justify"><img align="right" alt="Ode à bunda dura" border="0" height="130" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-15zYFeNj7s/TOv0VymP7MI/AAAAAAAAGTc/TcUA_Cq3ius/Ode%20%C3%A0%20bunda%20dura%5B9%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px none; display: inline; margin: 0px 0px 5px 5px;" title="Ode à bunda dura" width="130"> Tenho horror a mulher perfeitinha. Sabe aquele tipo que faz escova toda  manhã, tá sempre na moda e é tão sorridente que parece garota-propaganda de processo de clareamento dentário? E, só pra piorar, tem a bunda dura? Pois então, mulheres assim são um um porre. Pior: são brochantes. </div><div align="justify">Sou louca? Despeitada? Então tá, mas posso provar a minha tese. Quer ver?<br> </div><a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2010/11/ode-bunda-dura-ailin-aleixo.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-4597423127348351027?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TyA_Gxt6St0fCxSipJ9DjWXyg1c/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TyA_Gxt6St0fCxSipJ9DjWXyg1c/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TyA_Gxt6St0fCxSipJ9DjWXyg1c/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TyA_Gxt6St0fCxSipJ9DjWXyg1c/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=lY_PppLV5l0:io4hi9mQOB8:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/lY_PppLV5l0" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2010/11/ode-bunda-dura-ailin-aleixo.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-26578828096731905582012-03-21T22:26:00.000-03:002012-03-21T22:26:30.828-03:002012-03-21T22:26:30.828-03:00<div style="text-align: justify;"><img align="right" alt="A arte de engolir sapos" border="0" height="130" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-15zYFeNj7s/TWFuOn0oWMI/AAAAAAAAGas/gtwtTdsz4t8/A%20arte%20de%20engolir%20sapos%5B9%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; margin: 0px 0px 5px 10px;" title="A arte de engolir sapos" width="130"> A pessoa que nos obriga a engolir sapo, a gente nunca mais esquece. <br> Diz a Adélia que &quot;aquilo que a memória amou fica eterno&quot;. Aí eu acrescento algo que aprendi no Grande Sertão. Conversa de jagunços matadores. Diz um: &quot;Mato mas nunca fico com raiva.&quot; Retruca o outro, espantado: &quot;Mas como?&quot; Explica o primeiro: &quot;Quem fica com raiva levo o outro para a cama.&quot; É isso. A gente leva para a cama a pessoa que nos obrigou a engolir o sapo.</div><a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/02/arte-de-engolir-sapos-rubem-alves.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-2657882809673190558?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/N-Wm2MS7_ImCSq9R5DbVyD64P_w/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/N-Wm2MS7_ImCSq9R5DbVyD64P_w/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/N-Wm2MS7_ImCSq9R5DbVyD64P_w/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/N-Wm2MS7_ImCSq9R5DbVyD64P_w/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=2OGW4PuSHK4:Ad1DebfCkps:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/2OGW4PuSHK4" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/02/arte-de-engolir-sapos-rubem-alves.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-16830834087126029932012-03-18T19:59:00.000-03:002012-03-18T19:59:49.075-03:002012-03-18T19:59:49.075-03:00<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-61yMW6w2iac/Tn8iv55DMOI/AAAAAAAAMj0/gWZev-6BUYo/s1600-h/Mulher%252520n%2525C3%2525A3o%252520%2525C3%2525A9%252520flor%252520que%252520se%252520cheire%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="Mulher não é flor que se cheire" border="0" height="130" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-3OIfOpCU-mM/Tn8iw9qhiMI/AAAAAAAAMj4/gpZK0fUV9Us/Mulher%252520n%2525C3%2525A3o%252520%2525C3%2525A9%252520flor%252520que%252520se%252520cheire_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border: 0px none; display: inline; float: right; margin: 10px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="A mulher não é flor que se cheire" width="130"></a>A mulher não é ventre <br> Nem vagina <br> Nem teta <br> Nem bunda <br> Nem coxa <br> Nem flor que se cheire <br> Tudo isso é treta<br> <a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/09/mulher-nao-e-flor-que-se-cheire.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-1683083408712602993?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H0wjCiFMzIhDySelRaphfA5SO6o/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H0wjCiFMzIhDySelRaphfA5SO6o/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H0wjCiFMzIhDySelRaphfA5SO6o/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H0wjCiFMzIhDySelRaphfA5SO6o/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=Gmo5F5hKV0s:eqsajsBz9cQ:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/Gmo5F5hKV0s" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/09/mulher-nao-e-flor-que-se-cheire.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8554305455008288029.post-31028896283512293622012-03-13T22:35:00.000-03:002012-03-13T22:35:26.631-03:002012-03-13T22:35:26.631-03:00<div align="justify"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-UQZl30igDWI/Tlb17gI8WuI/AAAAAAAAKq4/9NJE812-W4k/s1600-h/A%252520gaveta%25255B30%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="A gaveta" border="0" height="130" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-cWUgirnbGxg/Tlb18h8a3fI/AAAAAAAAKq8/TZmISx8dM2k/A%252520gaveta_thumb%25255B31%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; float: right; margin: 10px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="A gaveta" width="130"></a>Em alguma região do cérebro humano, numa gaveta meio emperrada, deve estar guardado tudo aquilo que pensamos que não lembramos mais, ou, explicando melhor, as lembranças que demos por esquecidas. <br> Vez por outra elas escapam lá de dentro, trazendo consigo alguma sensação inesperada, um cheiro, uma música, uma imagem lavada pelo tempo, ou, no mínimo, a triste constatação da velhice que chega. </div><a href="http://www.vitalves.com/2011/08/gaveta-adriana-falcao.html#more">Clique aqui para continuar lendo</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8554305455008288029-3102889628351229362?l=www.vitalves.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6RkK7vBg4ZEMhvpqtPxy5Przjxc/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6RkK7vBg4ZEMhvpqtPxy5Przjxc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6RkK7vBg4ZEMhvpqtPxy5Przjxc/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6RkK7vBg4ZEMhvpqtPxy5Przjxc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><div class="feedflare"> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?a=ej51Xzjbk48:xe7BsM0wT50:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/vitalves?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"></img></a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/vitalves/~4/ej51Xzjbk48" height="1" width="1"/>VITALVES Netohttps://profiles.google.com/104380028410096073184noreply@blogger.comhttp://www.vitalves.com/2011/08/gaveta-adriana-falcao.html