<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924</id><updated>2012-02-09T08:47:23.077-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tempo de Ler</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>34</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-859864958833118169</id><published>2009-08-30T14:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T14:59:24.188-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Conjugação</title><content type='html'>Eu falo&lt;br /&gt;tu ouves&lt;br /&gt;ele cala.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu procuro.&lt;br /&gt;tu indagas&lt;br /&gt;ele esconde.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu planto&lt;br /&gt;tu adubas&lt;br /&gt;ela colhe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu ajunto&lt;br /&gt;tu conservas&lt;br /&gt;ele rouba.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu defendo&lt;br /&gt;tu combates&lt;br /&gt;ele entrega.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu canto&lt;br /&gt;tu calas&lt;br /&gt;ele vais.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu escrevo&lt;br /&gt;tu me lês&lt;br /&gt;ele apaga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(CD de poesia: Affonso Romano de Sant'Anna por Affonso Romano de Sant''Anna. Luzdacidade, Nitéroi, 1998.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-859864958833118169?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/859864958833118169/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/conjugacao.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/859864958833118169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/859864958833118169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/conjugacao.html' title='Conjugação'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-8066535458334916006</id><published>2009-08-30T14:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T14:45:38.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day after</title><content type='html'>Sou a esperança do futuro&lt;br /&gt;me dizem os mais velhos&lt;br /&gt;embrulhando bombas de ódio quente&lt;br /&gt;como se quesissem ver a esperança&lt;br /&gt;acabar no presente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Ulisses Tavares, Viva a poesia viva, p. 13.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-8066535458334916006?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/8066535458334916006/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/day-after.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/8066535458334916006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/8066535458334916006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/day-after.html' title='Day after'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-9079426966998401926</id><published>2009-08-30T14:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T14:39:53.479-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ssshhh!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SprxkJDE-SI/AAAAAAAAAG4/nGPlCPRQQGI/s1600-h/silencio.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375874708426520866" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SprxkJDE-SI/AAAAAAAAAG4/nGPlCPRQQGI/s320/silencio.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Pediram explicações a Deus e Deus decidiu falar. &lt;div&gt;E Deus fez "Ssshhh!".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E todas as turbinas pararam.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E os tornos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E as grandes prensas e os geradores.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E o rumor das cataratas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E o mar também silenciou.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E ouvio o Senhor que era bom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E tudo que no mundo era estriduloso silenciou.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Luis Fernando Verissimo. Poesia numa hora dessas?!, p. 85-86.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-9079426966998401926?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/9079426966998401926/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/ssshhh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/9079426966998401926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/9079426966998401926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/ssshhh.html' title='Ssshhh!'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SprxkJDE-SI/AAAAAAAAAG4/nGPlCPRQQGI/s72-c/silencio.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-6072399082556930400</id><published>2009-08-30T14:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T14:33:50.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Neologismo</title><content type='html'>Beijo pouco, falo menos ainda.&lt;br /&gt;Mas invento palavras&lt;br /&gt;Que traduzem a ternura mais funda&lt;br /&gt;E mais cotidiana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inventei, por exemplo, o verbo teadorar.&lt;br /&gt;Intransitivo:&lt;br /&gt;Teadoro, Teodora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Manuel Bandeira. Poesia completa e prosa, p. 281.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-6072399082556930400?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/6072399082556930400/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/neologismo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/6072399082556930400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/6072399082556930400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/neologismo.html' title='Neologismo'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-874784719426250350</id><published>2009-08-30T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T14:29:43.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Soneto de aniversário</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SprvLinHcsI/AAAAAAAAAGw/AVHaU31sso0/s1600-h/envelhecer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375872086768579266" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SprvLinHcsI/AAAAAAAAAGw/AVHaU31sso0/s320/envelhecer.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Passem-se dias, horas, meses, anos &lt;div&gt;Amadureçam as ilusões da vida&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Prossiga ela sempre dividida&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Entre compensações e desenganos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Faça-se a carne mais envilecida Diminuam os bens, cresçam os danos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vença o ideal de andar caminhos planos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Melhor que levar tudo de vencida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Queira-se antes ventura que aventura&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A medida que a têmpora embranquece&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E fica tenra a fibra que era dura&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E eu te direi: amiga minha, esquece...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que grande é este amor meu de critura&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que vê envelhecer e não envelhece.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Vinícius de Moraes. Para gostar de ler - Poesias, vol. 6, p. 52.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-874784719426250350?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/874784719426250350/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/soneto-de-aniversario.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/874784719426250350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/874784719426250350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/soneto-de-aniversario.html' title='Soneto de aniversário'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SprvLinHcsI/AAAAAAAAAGw/AVHaU31sso0/s72-c/envelhecer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-289134980443359013</id><published>2009-08-30T14:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T14:16:53.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A arte de ler</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SprsN35ftKI/AAAAAAAAAGo/kSvXRmDQOO8/s1600-h/1403781895_88a3d3bccb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375868828307666082" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SprsN35ftKI/AAAAAAAAAGo/kSvXRmDQOO8/s320/1403781895_88a3d3bccb.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O leitor que admiro é aqule que não chegou até a presente linha. Neste momento já interrompeu a leitura e está continuando a viagem por conta própria.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Mário Quintana, Caderno H.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-289134980443359013?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/289134980443359013/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/arte-de-ler.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/289134980443359013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/289134980443359013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/arte-de-ler.html' title='A arte de ler'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SprsN35ftKI/AAAAAAAAAGo/kSvXRmDQOO8/s72-c/1403781895_88a3d3bccb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-8833940516743662280</id><published>2009-08-30T14:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T14:13:01.719-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rua dos Cataventos II</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/Sprq4WrpeLI/AAAAAAAAAGg/WkaUFtiZ-h0/s1600-h/Imagem%2520017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375867359102335154" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/Sprq4WrpeLI/AAAAAAAAAGg/WkaUFtiZ-h0/s320/Imagem%2520017.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Dorme, ruazinha... É tudo escuro... &lt;div&gt;E os meus passos, quem é que pode ouvi-los?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dorme o teu sono sossegado e puro,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Com teus lampiões, com teus jardins tranqüilos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dorme... Não há ladrões, eu te asseguro...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nem guardas para o acaso persegui-los...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Na noite alta, como sobre um muro,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As estrelinhas cantam como grilos...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O vento está dormindo na calçada,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O vento enovelou-se como um cão...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dorme, ruazinha... Não há nada...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Só os meus passos... Mas tão leves são&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que até parecem pela madrugada,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Os da minha futura assombração...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Mário Quintana, Poesias, p. 3-4.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-8833940516743662280?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/8833940516743662280/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/rua-dos-cataventos-ii.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/8833940516743662280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/8833940516743662280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/rua-dos-cataventos-ii.html' title='Rua dos Cataventos II'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/Sprq4WrpeLI/AAAAAAAAAGg/WkaUFtiZ-h0/s72-c/Imagem%2520017.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-2350636601027365406</id><published>2009-08-23T10:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T10:35:03.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poética</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SpF9q1VgpnI/AAAAAAAAAGY/NvRFtb9mZEQ/s1600-h/sessao-poetica-Lions.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373214005254989426" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SpF9q1VgpnI/AAAAAAAAAGY/NvRFtb9mZEQ/s320/sessao-poetica-Lions.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; "De manhã escureço &lt;div&gt;De dia tardo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;De tarde anoiteço.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A Oeste a morte&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;contra quem vivo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do Sul cativo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O Oeste é meu Norte.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Outros que contem&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Passo por passo:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eu morro ontem&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;nasço amanhã&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ando onde há espaço&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Meu tempo é quando."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;New York, 1950 - Vinícius de Moraes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-2350636601027365406?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/2350636601027365406/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/poetica.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/2350636601027365406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/2350636601027365406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/poetica.html' title='Poética'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SpF9q1VgpnI/AAAAAAAAAGY/NvRFtb9mZEQ/s72-c/sessao-poetica-Lions.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-2049878951882340683</id><published>2009-08-23T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T10:30:19.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'>As sem razões do amor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SpF8jLOum2I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/edgzNUrjMPA/s1600-h/y-amor101.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 311px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373212774181542754" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SpF8jLOum2I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/edgzNUrjMPA/s320/y-amor101.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;" (...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eu te amo porque não amo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;bastante ou demais a mim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Por que amor não se troca,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;não se conjuga, nem se ama.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Por que amor é amor à nada,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;feliz e forte em si mesmo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amor é primo da morte,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;e da morte vencendor,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;por mais que o matem (e matam)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;a cada instante de amor." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Carlos Drummond de Andrade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-2049878951882340683?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/2049878951882340683/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/as-sem-razoes-do-amor.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/2049878951882340683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/2049878951882340683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/as-sem-razoes-do-amor.html' title='As sem razões do amor'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SpF8jLOum2I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/edgzNUrjMPA/s72-c/y-amor101.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-3922569545906386527</id><published>2009-08-20T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T07:08:44.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hoje é dia do Folclore!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/So1YwBkgnHI/AAAAAAAAAGI/7x6rmyjWN9g/s1600-h/folclore.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 221px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372047512601402482" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/So1YwBkgnHI/AAAAAAAAAGI/7x6rmyjWN9g/s320/folclore.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O Folclore é o conjunto de tradições populares de uma região. Ele compreende as lendas, as músicas, as danças, os festejos, as cantigas de ninar e de roda e as crenças, que fazem parte dos costumes do povo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As danças regionais como baião, frevo, capoeira, catererê, maracatu, maxixe, quadrilha, fandango e outras fazem parte do nosso Folclore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Você conhece cantigas de roda, como Se essa rua fosse minha, Teresinha de Jesus, o cravo brigou com a rosa e Pula, machadinha? E cantigas de ninar, você conhece alguma? Quem não dormiu ouvindo O boi da cara preta?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quem não conhece as lendas so Saci-Pererê, da Caipora, do Lobisomem, da Mula-sem-cabeça ou da Boiúna, a Cobra Grande?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Certos festejos como o Bumba-meu-boi e a Festa de Reis também pertencem ao Folclore brasileiro.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O nosso Folclore resultou grandemente da união das culturas portuguesa, negra e indígena.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Um ótimo dia do Folclore!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-3922569545906386527?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/3922569545906386527/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/hoje-e-dia-do-folclore.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/3922569545906386527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/3922569545906386527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/hoje-e-dia-do-folclore.html' title='Hoje é dia do Folclore!!!'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/So1YwBkgnHI/AAAAAAAAAGI/7x6rmyjWN9g/s72-c/folclore.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-5577436757619488864</id><published>2009-08-03T07:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T08:18:28.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fama, a deusa de 100 bocas</title><content type='html'>A Fama, divindade alada, filha de Titã e Geia, mais famosa em Roma que na Grécia, antigas, cultuada no mundo comteporâneo, era mensageira de Júpiter, tinha a cara de louca e voava à frente do seu cortejo, disseminando mentiras e verdades por suas 100 bocas. O poeta Virgílio (71 a.C.-14 d.C.) a cantou como o mais rápido dos flagelos por causa de "sua mobilidade", de onde vinham "suas forças que ela aumenta correndo. Pouco temível, a princípio, em breve sobe aos ares e , com os pés presos no chão, esconde a cabeça nas nuvens. Monstro horrível, voa de noite entre o céu e a terra e nunca dorme, de dia espreita do cimo dos palácios, no alto das torres, amedrontando as grandes cidades, semeando mentiras e verdades".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Janis Joplin (1943-1970) foi arrastada por ela aos 27 anos, Jimi Hendrix (1942-1970) e Jim Morrison (1943-1971), aos 28, Elis Regina (1945-1982), aos 37, Cazuza (1958-1990), aos 32, e Cássia Eller (1962-2001), aos 39. John Lennon (1940-1980), aos 40. Michael Jackson (1958-2009), possivelmente seu predileto, lhe resistiu por 46 anos dos 50 que viveu, até que ela parou seu coração na tarde de 25 de Junho. Se a vida é uma sucessão de sucessores, Jackson sucedeu Elvis Presley (1935-1977), que a Fama levou aos 42 anos, desfigurado por hot-dog e anfetamina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A divindade disseminou de Jackson 50 plásticas, mudança de cor, dois casamentos, um com a filha do seu antecessor, Lisa Presley, três filhos, uma fortuna de milhões de dólares e a venda de quase um bilhão de cópias de álbuns, dos quais &lt;em&gt;Thriller&lt;/em&gt; (1982), o mais vendido da história da música, chegou a 40 milhões. Disseminou, também, &lt;em&gt;We Are The World &lt;/em&gt;(1985), um jeito pop de denunciar a clássica miséria, o controle dos direitos autorais de composições dos Beatles, histórias verdadeiras ou falsas sobre pedofilia, falência e negócios desastrosos. Aprendemos cedo que somos semelhantes a Deus, e assistindo às 100 bocas da Fama repercutirem a morte dos mitos, percebi que ele era inimitável e perfeito, como um deus. Deus nos proteja dos homens, aprendemos tarde, porque é insuportável ser perfeito entre os homens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-5577436757619488864?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/5577436757619488864/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/fama-deusa-de-100-bocas.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/5577436757619488864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/5577436757619488864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/fama-deusa-de-100-bocas.html' title='Fama, a deusa de 100 bocas'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-8530262341252521091</id><published>2009-08-02T15:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-02T16:01:10.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Em juízo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SnYZ0NqjwkI/AAAAAAAAAGA/x5jWumOiTwg/s1600-h/tribunal1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365504390870581826" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SnYZ0NqjwkI/AAAAAAAAAGA/x5jWumOiTwg/s320/tribunal1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Último recurso:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O réu estava sendo julgado por assassinato. Havia fortes evidências sobre sua culpa, mas o cadáver ainda não aparecera. Sem muita esperança, o advogado arrisca:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Tenho uma surpresa. Dentro de um minuto, a pessoa presumivelmente assassinada entrará neste tribunal. E olha para a porta. Os jurados, surpresos, repetem o gesto. Findado o prazo, o advogado retoma:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Realmente, ninguém entrou. No entanto, por vossa expectativa, depreende-se que o júri não tenha certeza de que alguém foi morto, não há assassino.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Os jurados retiram-se para a decisão final. E vem o veredicto: Culpado.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Culpado? Mas como? - pergunta o advogado. - Vocês estavam em dúvida, eu vi todos olharem para a porta!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E o juíz para arrematar:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-E verdade. Todos olhamos para a porta. Menos o seu cliente.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-8530262341252521091?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/8530262341252521091/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/em-juizo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/8530262341252521091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/8530262341252521091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/08/em-juizo.html' title='Em juízo'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SnYZ0NqjwkI/AAAAAAAAAGA/x5jWumOiTwg/s72-c/tribunal1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-6863617668853095922</id><published>2009-07-25T19:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T19:54:30.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Serenata</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvFMduj3QI/AAAAAAAAAEY/N-Pz_tqh3Sw/s1600-h/untitledm+mb+bm.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362596599243726082" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvFMduj3QI/AAAAAAAAAEY/N-Pz_tqh3Sw/s320/untitledm+mb+bm.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Repara na canção, a canção é tardia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;que timidamente se eleva,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;num arrulho de fonte fria.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O orvalho treme sobre a treva&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e o sonho da noite procura&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;a voz que o vento abraça e leva.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Repara na canção, a canção é tardia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;que oferece a um mundo desfeito&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;sua flor de melancolia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;É tão triste, mas tão perfeito,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;o movimento em que murmura,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;como o do coração no peito.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Repara na canção, a canção é tardia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;que por sobre o teu nome, apenas,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;desenha a sua melodia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cecília Meireles&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-6863617668853095922?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/6863617668853095922/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/07/serenata.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/6863617668853095922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/6863617668853095922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/07/serenata.html' title='Serenata'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvFMduj3QI/AAAAAAAAAEY/N-Pz_tqh3Sw/s72-c/untitledm+mb+bm.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-1378978633624635764</id><published>2009-07-25T19:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T19:38:29.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ódio?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvBep83XCI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/6z_Me6mRvJ0/s1600-h/CHORO.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 209px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362592513716083746" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvBep83XCI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/6z_Me6mRvJ0/s320/CHORO.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ódio por ele? Não... Se o amei tanto,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;se tanto bem lhe quis no meu passado,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;se o encontrei depois de o ter sonhado,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;se à vida assim roubei todo o encanto...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que importa se mentiu? E se hoje o pranto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;turva o meu triste olhar, marmorizado,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;olhar de monja, trágico, gelado&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;como um soturno e enorme Campo Santo!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ah! Nunca mais amá-lo já é o bastante!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quero senti-lo d'outra, bem distante,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;como se fora meu, calma e serena!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ódio seria em mim saudade infinda,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mágoa de o ter perdido, amor ainda.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ódio por ele? Não... não vale a pena...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Maria Lúcia Dal Farra (org). &lt;em&gt;Poemas de Florbela espanca&lt;/em&gt;. São Paulo: Martins Fontes, 1996.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-1378978633624635764?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/1378978633624635764/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/07/odio.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/1378978633624635764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/1378978633624635764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/07/odio.html' title='Ódio?'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvBep83XCI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/6z_Me6mRvJ0/s72-c/CHORO.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-2763694738745992538</id><published>2009-06-16T18:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T19:08:07.604-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Posêidon</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjhPcN0ogCI/AAAAAAAAAEI/KTlkBytnzTE/s1600-h/poseidon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 232px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348111903667814434" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjhPcN0ogCI/AAAAAAAAAEI/KTlkBytnzTE/s320/poseidon.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O palácio dourado do deus marinho cintilava nas águas profundas e calmas de uma ilha. Posêidon vivia ali em companhia da rainha Anfitrite. Ás vezes saía do fundo arenoso; o mar então se abria para deixar seu carro passar. E ao lado dele se viam as ninfas e os monstros pulando de alegria.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seus passeios nem sempre eram de bom agouro. O deus era muito irritadiço. Quando sua raiva chegava ao auge, ele surgia das águas brandindo seu tridente. Podia desencadear tempestades e promover a subida da água dos rios, que transbordavam. Também sabia fazer o chão tremer, provocando os terremotos. Por isso, os homens o temiam e tomavam a precaução de lhe oferecer esplêdidos sacrifícios antes de iniciar uma viagem no mar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Claude Pouzadoux, Contos e lendas da mitologia grega.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-2763694738745992538?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/2763694738745992538/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/poseidon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/2763694738745992538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/2763694738745992538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/poseidon.html' title='Posêidon'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjhPcN0ogCI/AAAAAAAAAEI/KTlkBytnzTE/s72-c/poseidon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-5762540448681105151</id><published>2009-06-16T13:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T13:46:19.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Túnel</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjgEfX9JodI/AAAAAAAAAEA/SWt_9az8RnM/s1600-h/1236785190.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348029494555419090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjgEfX9JodI/AAAAAAAAAEA/SWt_9az8RnM/s320/1236785190.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Já não dá pra ser criança&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;falta muito pra ser adulto.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A gente vai levando.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-5762540448681105151?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/5762540448681105151/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/tunel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/5762540448681105151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/5762540448681105151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/tunel.html' title='Túnel'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjgEfX9JodI/AAAAAAAAAEA/SWt_9az8RnM/s72-c/1236785190.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-5843242701750341539</id><published>2009-06-16T12:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T12:55:47.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/Sjf4m3BxACI/AAAAAAAAAD4/DHnZo_cwqMM/s1600-h/igreja-~-CPL_059.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348016429015826466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 295px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/Sjf4m3BxACI/AAAAAAAAAD4/DHnZo_cwqMM/s320/igreja-~-CPL_059.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Na aula de catecismo, a professora tentava ensinar aos alunos lá do cafundô-do-Judas como se fazia o pelo-sinal. Ensinou a fazer a cruzinha na testa, na boca, no peito. Ensinou, ensinou, mas não teve muito êxito.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Um dia, resolveu testar se tinham aprendido. E um dos meninos disse:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Óia, fessora, fazê as cruizinha nóis já sabe.Nóis não sabe ainda é ispaiá elas na cara.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;                                                            (Ziraldo, As últimas anedotinhas do Bichinho da maçã, p. 44.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-5843242701750341539?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/5843242701750341539/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/na-aula-de-catecismo-professora-tentava.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/5843242701750341539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/5843242701750341539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/na-aula-de-catecismo-professora-tentava.html' title=''/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/Sjf4m3BxACI/AAAAAAAAAD4/DHnZo_cwqMM/s72-c/igreja-~-CPL_059.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-9137075605223989465</id><published>2009-06-16T12:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T12:33:07.762-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feira de livro</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjfzCbz9WiI/AAAAAAAAADw/s64W_2uQ2_4/s1600-h/desenho5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348010305676728866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 234px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjfzCbz9WiI/AAAAAAAAADw/s64W_2uQ2_4/s320/desenho5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;                                              O que os poetas escrevem agrada ao espírito, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;                                                      embeleza a cútis e prolonga a vida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;                                                                                                                                  (Mário Quintana, Caderno H.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-9137075605223989465?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/9137075605223989465/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/feira-de-livro.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/9137075605223989465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/9137075605223989465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/feira-de-livro.html' title='Feira de livro'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjfzCbz9WiI/AAAAAAAAADw/s64W_2uQ2_4/s72-c/desenho5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-4669615984008732443</id><published>2009-06-14T12:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T12:35:54.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Uau!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjVRAiAIcOI/AAAAAAAAADo/NoEdRhapDGw/s1600-h/desenho%20menino%20e%20menina.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347269202141540578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 291px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjVRAiAIcOI/AAAAAAAAADo/NoEdRhapDGw/s320/desenho%2520menino%2520e%2520menina.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fiquei olhando, perguntando,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sondando, assuntando,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;ciscando você.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E quando dei por mim...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Já estava amando.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Diário de uma paixão, cit.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-4669615984008732443?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/4669615984008732443/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/uau.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/4669615984008732443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/4669615984008732443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/uau.html' title='Uau!'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjVRAiAIcOI/AAAAAAAAADo/NoEdRhapDGw/s72-c/desenho%2520menino%2520e%2520menina.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-7743136699402887239</id><published>2009-06-14T12:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T12:31:29.462-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Você está falando grego?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjVPFnm83EI/AAAAAAAAADg/UllfD7mMjJE/s1600-h/interroga%C3%A7%C3%A3o+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347267090522627138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 302px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjVPFnm83EI/AAAAAAAAADg/UllfD7mMjJE/s320/interroga%25C3%25A7%25C3%25A3o%2Bcopy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjVO5i83Q_I/AAAAAAAAADY/m5Cqg45rNdw/s1600-h/interrogaÃ§Ã£o+e.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;É bem provável que os brasileiros tenham herdado essa expressão dos ingleses. Afinal, o grego não é tão distinto do português (já que influenciou muito o latim em sua formação). Vale citar que, entre os gregos, quando alguma coisa é incompreensível, eles dizem que a pessoa está "falando chinês".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Veja como outros povos dizem quando não entendem alguma coisa:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;o espanhol&lt;/strong&gt;: você está falando &lt;strong&gt;chinês&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;o alemão&lt;/strong&gt;: você está falando &lt;strong&gt;espanhol&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;o russo&lt;/strong&gt;: você está falando&lt;strong&gt; chinês&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;o italiano&lt;/strong&gt;: você está falando &lt;strong&gt;turco&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;o francês&lt;/strong&gt;: você está falando &lt;strong&gt;hebraico&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-7743136699402887239?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/7743136699402887239/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/voce-esta-falando-grego.html#comment-form' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/7743136699402887239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/7743136699402887239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/voce-esta-falando-grego.html' title='Você está falando grego?'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjVPFnm83EI/AAAAAAAAADg/UllfD7mMjJE/s72-c/interroga%25C3%25A7%25C3%25A3o%2Bcopy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-6480351551988835714</id><published>2009-06-14T12:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T12:18:51.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Para você estar passando adiante</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjVNCMTeg5I/AAAAAAAAADQ/y_zwfTZutz4/s1600-h/gerundio.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347264832630326162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 286px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjVNCMTeg5I/AAAAAAAAADQ/y_zwfTZutz4/s320/gerundio.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Este artigo foi feito especialmente para você que não possa estar recordando e possa estar deixando discretamente sobre a mesa de alguém que não consiga estar falando sem estar espalhando essa praga terrível da comunicação moderna, o gerundismo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Você pode também estar passando por fax, estar mandando pelo correio ou estar enviando pela internet. O importante é estar garantindo que a pessoa em questão vá estar recebendo esta mensagem, de modo que ela possa estar lendo e, quem sabe, consiga até mesmo estar se dando conta da maneira como tudo que ela costuma estar falando deve estar soando nos ouvidos de quem precisar estar escutando.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sinta-se livre para estar fazendo tantas cópias quantas você vá estar achando necessárias, de modo a estar atingindo o mais número de pessoas infectadas por esta epidemia de transmissão oral.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mais do que estar repreendendo ou estar caçoando, o objetivo deste movimento é estar fazendo com que esteja caindo a ficha das pessoas que costumam estar falando desse jeito sem estar percebendo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Jornal da Tarde, 16/02/2001.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-6480351551988835714?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/6480351551988835714/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/para-voce-estar-passando-adiante.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/6480351551988835714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/6480351551988835714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/para-voce-estar-passando-adiante.html' title='Para você estar passando adiante'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjVNCMTeg5I/AAAAAAAAADQ/y_zwfTZutz4/s72-c/gerundio.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-9189975699377320946</id><published>2009-06-14T12:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T12:09:44.511-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem saída</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjVKqMAfneI/AAAAAAAAADI/uDiIBKwVq4Y/s1600-h/xadrez.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347262221210590690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjVKqMAfneI/AAAAAAAAADI/uDiIBKwVq4Y/s320/xadrez.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E agora, o que faço?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fujo, tremo, desmaio?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Encaro o meu amor,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ponto final, reticências ou traço,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fico ou saio?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Ulisses Tavares. Diário de uma paixão. São Paulo: Geração Editorial, 2003.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-9189975699377320946?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/9189975699377320946/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/sem-saida.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/9189975699377320946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/9189975699377320946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/sem-saida.html' title='Sem saída'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjVKqMAfneI/AAAAAAAAADI/uDiIBKwVq4Y/s72-c/xadrez.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-7468390320965720740</id><published>2009-06-14T11:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T11:20:28.532-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O mito de Narciso</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjU_Tkl9PUI/AAAAAAAAADA/CmXcH_Wpoqs/s1600-h/Eco+e+Narciso.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347249738045275458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 184px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjU_Tkl9PUI/AAAAAAAAADA/CmXcH_Wpoqs/s320/Eco+e+Narciso.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Narciso era um belo rapaz, filho do deus so rio Céfiso e da ninfa Liríope. Por acasião de seu nascimento, seus pais consultaram o oráculo Tirésias para saber qual seria o destino do menino. A resposta foi que ele teria uma longa vida, se nunca visse a própria face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Muitas moças e ninfas apaixonaram-se por Narciso, quando ele chegou à idade adulta. Porém, o belo jovem não se interessava por nenhuma delas. A ninfa Eco, uma das mais apaixonadas, não se conformou com a indiferença de Narciso e afastou-se amargurada para um lugar deserto, onde definhou até que somente restaram dela os gemidos. As moças desprezadas pediram aos deuses para vingá-las.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nêmesis apiedou-se delas e induziu Narciso, depois de uma caçada num dia muito quente, a debruçar-se numa fonte para beber água. Descuidando-se de tudo o mais, ele permaneceu imóvel na contemplação ininterrupta de sua face refletida e assim morreu. No próprio Hades ele tentava ver nas águas do Estige as feições pelas quais se apaixonara.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Irene Machado. Literatura e redação. São Paulo: Scipione, 1994, p. 142-3. Resumo da autora a partir do Dicionário de mitologia grega e romana, de Mário da Gama Kury.)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-7468390320965720740?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/7468390320965720740/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/o-mito-de-narciso.html#comment-form' title='56 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/7468390320965720740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/7468390320965720740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/o-mito-de-narciso.html' title='O mito de Narciso'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjU_Tkl9PUI/AAAAAAAAADA/CmXcH_Wpoqs/s72-c/Eco+e+Narciso.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>56</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-5204546413434719213</id><published>2009-06-14T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T11:22:09.565-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O mito de Orfeu</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjU6nclyAWI/AAAAAAAAAC4/CswjMIygOoc/s1600-h/8b94c93187a0c49cf43dd3dc1ef6afe1236975ee-destaque.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347244581936300386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjU6nclyAWI/AAAAAAAAAC4/CswjMIygOoc/s320/8b94c93187a0c49cf43dd3dc1ef6afe1236975ee-destaque.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Orfeu nasceu nas vizinhanças do Olimpo, freqüentado pelas musas. Ele era excelente poeta, cantor e músico, sendo considerado o inventor da cítata. Passava o dia cantando ao som de sua lira, a qual aumentou de sete para nove cordas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seu canto era tão melodioso que, ao ouvi-lo, os hoem mais brutais ficavam sensibilizados, as feras mais ferozes vinham repousar a seus pés mansamente, os pássaros pousavam nas árvores, os rios suspendiam seu curso e as árvores formavam coros de dança.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Devido a sua fraqueza física, Orfeu participou da expedição dos Argonautas apenas marcando a cadência dos remadores. Durante as tormentas ele abrandava as vagas e tranqüilizava a tripulação com seu canto. E, quando as sereias começavam a cantar, Orfeu entoava cantos mais agradáveis que o delas, livrando os remadores do fascínio.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Orfeu era apaixonado por Eurídice, filha de Apolo. No dia de seu casamento, Eurídice, sua noiva, caminhava pelas margens do rio, quando apareceu Aristeu, que tentou violentá-la. No desepero de se livrar do atacante, ela pisou numa serpente escondida na vegetação e morreu depois de ser picada.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Orfeu julgou que devia procurá-la mesmo entre os mortos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tomou sua lira e desceu ao inferno. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Irene Machado. Literatura e redação. São Paulo: Scipione, 1994, p. 142-3. Resumo da autora a partir do Dicionário de mitologia grega e romana, de Mário da Gama Kury.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Outras versões desse mito contam que:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No inferno, Orfeu encanta com sua música todos os seres sombrios e monstruosos que lá habitam. O herói sensibilizou também os reis do inferno, o deus Hades e sua esposa Perséfone, e consegue permissão para levar Eurídice de volta ao mundo da luz. Apenas uma condição é estabelecida por Hades e Perséfone: Orfeu só poderia olhar para sua amada depois de terem saído do inferno.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O casal dirigi-se ao mundo dos vivos, sendo Orfeu seguido a certa distância por Eurídice. Contudo, no momento em que já estão completando o percurso, Orfeu, para certificar-se de que a amada estava por perto, olha para trás e vê Eurídice perder-se para sempre nos abismos do inferno.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-5204546413434719213?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/5204546413434719213/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/o-mito-de-orfeu.html#comment-form' title='47 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/5204546413434719213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/5204546413434719213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/o-mito-de-orfeu.html' title='O mito de Orfeu'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjU6nclyAWI/AAAAAAAAAC4/CswjMIygOoc/s72-c/8b94c93187a0c49cf43dd3dc1ef6afe1236975ee-destaque.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>47</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-3581246860250441345</id><published>2009-06-14T10:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T10:24:44.057-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes! Nós também temos mitos!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjUyT1zhH4I/AAAAAAAAACw/rYPzY9v1sjA/s1600-h/184689_4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347235449014394754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjUyT1zhH4I/AAAAAAAAACw/rYPzY9v1sjA/s320/184689_4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A cultura brasileira formou-se a partir da aproximação e do cruzamento de várias culturas, cada uma com seus próprios mitos. Assim, aos mitos dos índios, que são os genuinamente brasileiros, foram se somando os mitos dos portugueses, dos africanos e, posteriormente, dos imigrantes europeus e japoneses, dando origem a uma rica e diversificada mitologia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Os mitos brasileiros vêm sendo recolhidos por muitos pesquisadores. Entre eles, destaca-se o trabalho do professor e folclorista Luís da Câmara cascudo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-3581246860250441345?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/3581246860250441345/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/yes-nos-tambem-temos-mitos.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/3581246860250441345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/3581246860250441345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/yes-nos-tambem-temos-mitos.html' title='Yes! Nós também temos mitos!'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjUyT1zhH4I/AAAAAAAAACw/rYPzY9v1sjA/s72-c/184689_4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-6454113268165818399</id><published>2009-06-14T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T10:48:53.694-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O mundo de Zeus</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjUvBpGlFaI/AAAAAAAAACo/9q0S5wv9Bnk/s1600-h/Zeus--greek-mythology-687267_1024_768.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347231837832156578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjUvBpGlFaI/AAAAAAAAACo/9q0S5wv9Bnk/s320/Zeus--greek-mythology-687267_1024_768.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;De acordo com a mitologia grega, os deuses govrenavam o universo de sua morada construída no Olimpo, onde Zeus, o deus dos deuses, era o soberano. Zeus, armado com sues raios, comandava o mundo e os homens e era respeitado por todos. Dois deuses importantes eram os seus irmãos: Poseidon, o deus do mar, que carregava seu tridente para bater nas águas, convulsionando as ondas, e Hades, o senhor da morte, que reinava num mundo subterrâneo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;( Irene Machado. Literátura e redação. São Pulo: Scipione, 1994. p. 134.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Outros deuses da mitologia grega são:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Afrodite - deusa do amor e da beleza.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hera - deusa dos casamentos e da maternidade.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Apolo - deus da luz e das obras de arte.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Artemis - deusa da caça.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ares - deus da guerra.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Atena - deusa da sabedoria e da serenidade; protetora da cidade de Atenas.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hermes - deus do comércio e das comunicações.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hefestos - deus do fogo e do trabalho.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-6454113268165818399?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/6454113268165818399/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/o-mundo-de-zeus.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/6454113268165818399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/6454113268165818399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/o-mundo-de-zeus.html' title='O mundo de Zeus'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjUvBpGlFaI/AAAAAAAAACo/9q0S5wv9Bnk/s72-c/Zeus--greek-mythology-687267_1024_768.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-428113032900615185</id><published>2009-06-13T17:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T17:23:18.782-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mitos: em busca de respostas</title><content type='html'>No início da civilização, os seres humanos precisaram construir saberes sobre o mundo, para entender o funcionamento das coisas e para viver melhor. Eles buscavam respostas para perguntas como estas: como nós seres humanos, passamos a existir? Porque depois da primavera vem o verão, e depois deste o outono, e o inverno? [...]&lt;br /&gt;A muitas destas perguntas os gregos e os romanos (ancestrais da nossa civilização) não conseguiram responder pela razão (a ciência, tal como a conhecemos hoje, não existia). Inventaram, então, histórias explicativas e maravilhosas, habitadas por heróis, monstros, mortais e deuses.[...]&lt;br /&gt;Elas ensinam que os deuses foram criados pelo Céu e pela Terra para comandar o Universo e todos os seres que nele habitavam. De início, o Universo era o Caos, que a ação divina transformou num sistema organizado.&lt;br /&gt;Através dos mitos, gregos e romanos encontravam respostas para suas inquietações a respeito da origem das coisas e das relações socias. O conjunto dessas história recebeu o nome de &lt;em&gt;mitologia&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-428113032900615185?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/428113032900615185/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/mitos-em-busca-de-respostas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/428113032900615185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/428113032900615185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/mitos-em-busca-de-respostas.html' title='Mitos: em busca de respostas'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-7381933735926418524</id><published>2009-06-13T12:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T13:17:51.035-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Leonardo da Vinci: o precursor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjQJVd1ctuI/AAAAAAAAACY/Exj-pueqaKw/s1600-h/bike-leonardo_da_vinci.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346908921986332386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 463px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 217px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjQJVd1ctuI/AAAAAAAAACY/Exj-pueqaKw/s320/bike-leonardo_da_vinci.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aquilo que hoje conhecemos como asa-delta foi inventado por Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519), um dos mais importantes gênios da humanidade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Da Vinci foi também o inventor das primeiras versões do hilicóptero, da bicicleta, do sistema de respiração para mergulho, do robô, de blindados e outras máquinas de guerra. Famoso principalmente como pintor, sua obra mais conhecida é a &lt;em&gt;Monalisa&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-7381933735926418524?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/7381933735926418524/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/leonardo-da-vinci-o-precursor.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/7381933735926418524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/7381933735926418524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/leonardo-da-vinci-o-precursor.html' title='Leonardo da Vinci: o precursor'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjQJVd1ctuI/AAAAAAAAACY/Exj-pueqaKw/s72-c/bike-leonardo_da_vinci.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-8595487162934585937</id><published>2009-06-13T12:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T12:15:30.880-07:00</updated><title type='text'>De Ícaro a Armstrong</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjP6y53_haI/AAAAAAAAAB4/ff5Il8iOFqc/s1600-h/lua15.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346892935054984610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 274px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjP6y53_haI/AAAAAAAAAB4/ff5Il8iOFqc/s320/lua15.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O homem chegou à Lua em 1969. Antes de pôr o pé no solo lunar, o astronauta norte-americano Neil Armstrong desse: "Um pequeno passo para o homem e um gigantesco salto para a humanidade".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Com essa frase, o astronauta resumia o significado daquela conquista.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pisar a Lua era, sem dúvida, um salto importantíssimo na longa aventura humana de voar e conquistar o espaço - um sonho que sempre povoou o imaginário humano, conforme demonstra o mito grego de Ícaro.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-8595487162934585937?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/8595487162934585937/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/de-icaro-armstrong.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/8595487162934585937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/8595487162934585937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/de-icaro-armstrong.html' title='De Ícaro a Armstrong'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjP6y53_haI/AAAAAAAAAB4/ff5Il8iOFqc/s72-c/lua15.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-115428951602032963</id><published>2009-06-13T12:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T12:08:09.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Teseu: o defensor do povo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjP4-oblPHI/AAAAAAAAABw/Y-adpN8ojSk/s1600-h/teseoMinotauro.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346890937507593330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjP4-oblPHI/AAAAAAAAABw/Y-adpN8ojSk/s320/teseoMinotauro.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Teseu desde cedo consagrou-se como herói na luta contra bandidos e monstros. Sua prova mais difícil foi a luta contra o Minotauro.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Todos os anos, Minos, o rei de Creta, exigia que o povo lhe entregasse sete moças e sete rapazes para serem devorados pelo Minotauro, que vivia no labirinto. Desejando pôr fim a essa situação, o herói se oferece para ser uma das vítimas. Luta contra o monstro, mata-o e, com a ajuda de Ariadne, consegue sair do labirinto.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-115428951602032963?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/115428951602032963/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/teseu-o-defensor-do-povo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/115428951602032963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/115428951602032963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/teseu-o-defensor-do-povo.html' title='Teseu: o defensor do povo'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjP4-oblPHI/AAAAAAAAABw/Y-adpN8ojSk/s72-c/teseoMinotauro.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-9048172619363686840</id><published>2009-06-13T11:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T11:35:51.990-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quem era Dédalo na mitologia?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjPxeFAqy6I/AAAAAAAAABo/7xScUXI8bSM/s1600-h/icarus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346882681662262178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 276px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjPxeFAqy6I/AAAAAAAAABo/7xScUXI8bSM/s320/icarus.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dédalo, o pai de Ícaro, era filho de reis de Atenas e discípulo do deus Mercúrio (o mensageiro dos deuses do Olimpo). Depois de matar seu sobrinho por ciúme, Dédalo foge de Atenas e se refugia na corte de Minos, em Creta, onde constrói o labirinto em que é encerrado o Minotauro.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-9048172619363686840?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/9048172619363686840/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/quem-era-dedalo-na-mitologia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/9048172619363686840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/9048172619363686840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/quem-era-dedalo-na-mitologia.html' title='Quem era Dédalo na mitologia?'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjPxeFAqy6I/AAAAAAAAABo/7xScUXI8bSM/s72-c/icarus.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-3620920993675762142</id><published>2009-06-13T11:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T11:36:20.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O herói e a conquista do impossível</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjPuMEwNFjI/AAAAAAAAABg/QE39fRBnlDg/s1600-h/icaro.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346879073820677682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 315px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjPuMEwNFjI/AAAAAAAAABg/QE39fRBnlDg/s320/icaro.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; A queda de Ícaro (séc. XVII), de Jacob Peter Gowi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quem um dia nunca quis ser herói ou heroína, lutar contra o mal e destacar-se por feitos de coragem e ousadia? Esse desejo humano não é recente.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Desde a época do bronze. há quase 3 mil anos, o ser humano já criava histórias fantasiosas de destemidos heróis, como Hércules, Aquiles, Perseu, Ícaro e outros.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Para eles, os limites existiam apenas para ser quebrados.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-3620920993675762142?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/3620920993675762142/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/o-heroi-e-conquista-do-impossivel.html#comment-form' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/3620920993675762142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/3620920993675762142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/o-heroi-e-conquista-do-impossivel.html' title='O herói e a conquista do impossível'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjPuMEwNFjI/AAAAAAAAABg/QE39fRBnlDg/s72-c/icaro.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-8136913876168471226</id><published>2009-06-12T20:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T11:12:32.754-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Click!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjPqsPY38jI/AAAAAAAAABY/-4nu0Y_NUQo/s1600-h/TROYB.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346875228384916018" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 181px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 196px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjPqsPY38jI/AAAAAAAAABY/-4nu0Y_NUQo/s320/TROYB.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjPqoJwW09I/AAAAAAAAABQ/5jx75swQCwI/s1600-h/rei-arthur06.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346875158153319378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 222px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjPqoJwW09I/AAAAAAAAABQ/5jx75swQCwI/s320/rei-arthur06.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjPqfWb_5aI/AAAAAAAAABI/OvGAtshU2uQ/s1600-h/TROYB.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;E lá está na televisão um repórter entrevistando um cidadão comum que salvou uma criança em uma enchente ou um atleta que numa jogada audaciosa consegui a vitória para seu time. Heróis? Sim, heróis. Pessoas que se distinguem por seu valor, bravura e ações corajosas.&lt;br /&gt;Nosso mundo está povoado deles. Alguns vieram de outros mundos, de outras civilizações, de outras culturas e chegaram ( e ainda chegam ) até nós por meio de livros, de histórias em quadrinhos, e de filmes. Seus atos corajosos, sua luta contra o mal e a tenacidade com que perseguem seus ideais nos atraem como ímãs. Talvez porque, nesta nossa vida rotineira, sonhemos, quem sabe um dia, ser um deles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-8136913876168471226?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/8136913876168471226/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/click-e-la-esta-na-televisao-um.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/8136913876168471226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/8136913876168471226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/click-e-la-esta-na-televisao-um.html' title='Click!'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjPqsPY38jI/AAAAAAAAABY/-4nu0Y_NUQo/s72-c/TROYB.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6885995527852679924.post-4286759656792136975</id><published>2009-06-12T19:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T11:13:30.029-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Carlitos</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjMV2GY7JVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3JSu8503MmY/s1600-h/logo%20carlitos.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346641201791182162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 216px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjMV2GY7JVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3JSu8503MmY/s320/logo%2520carlitos.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deixou quando morto&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;mais ou menos isto:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;um chapéu preto, roto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;dois tocos de cigarro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;e um resto de bengala.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Um certo ar de outro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;um par de sapatos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;a casaca, um lenço&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;e o sorriso triste&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;da alma de seu rosto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;(Carlos Rodrigues Brandão. Os nomes. Campinas: Mercado de letras, 1999. p. 28.)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6885995527852679924-4286759656792136975?l=tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/feeds/4286759656792136975/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/carlitos.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/4286759656792136975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6885995527852679924/posts/default/4286759656792136975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tempo-de-ler.blogspot.com/2009/06/carlitos.html' title='Carlitos'/><author><name>Muito + do que os olhos podem ver...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09895085156933974883</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SmvHxMrXY3I/AAAAAAAAAEg/FXYi-aEcu88/S220/imagem_palhaco.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_icrDcIW_ZxU/SjMV2GY7JVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3JSu8503MmY/s72-c/logo%2520carlitos.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
