Wait a minute, Doc. Ah... Are you telling me that you built a time machine... out of a DeLorean?
-Marty McFly
martes, 6 de julio de 2010
y las patinetas voladoras?
Wait a minute, Doc. Ah... Are you telling me that you built a time machine... out of a DeLorean?
-Marty McFly
lunes, 5 de julio de 2010
Algún día en cualquier parte, en cualquier lugar indefectiblemente te encontrarás a ti mismo, y ésa, sólo ésa, puede ser la más feliz o la más amarga de tus horas.
Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto (Pablo Neruda)
sábado, 3 de julio de 2010
viernes, 2 de julio de 2010
without an answer
“That’s ‘cause we all wanna be problemless. To fix ourselves.
We look for some magic solution to make us all better, but none of us really know what we’re doing.
And why is that so bad? That’s all we humans can do. Guess. Try. Hope.
But, Justin, just pray you don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ve got the answer. Because that’s bullshit.
The trick is living without an answer.
I think.”
- Thumbsucker, 2005
jueves, 1 de julio de 2010
martes, 29 de junio de 2010
viernes, 25 de junio de 2010
WHO AM I?
Who am I? They often tell me
I would step from my cell’s confinement
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a squire from his country-house.
Who am I? They often tell me
I would talk to my warders
Freely and friendly and clearly,
As though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me
I would bear the days of misfortune
Equably, smilingly, proudly,
Like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really all that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I know of myself,
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
Yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighbourliness,
Trembling with anger at despotisms and petty humiliation,
Tossing in expectation of great events,
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?
Who am I? This or the other?
Am I one person today, and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
And before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army,
Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, thou knowest, O God, I am thine.
—Dietrich Bonhoeffer, 1944.
I would step from my cell’s confinement
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a squire from his country-house.
Who am I? They often tell me
I would talk to my warders
Freely and friendly and clearly,
As though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me
I would bear the days of misfortune
Equably, smilingly, proudly,
Like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really all that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I know of myself,
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
Yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighbourliness,
Trembling with anger at despotisms and petty humiliation,
Tossing in expectation of great events,
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?
Who am I? This or the other?
Am I one person today, and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
And before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army,
Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, thou knowest, O God, I am thine.
—Dietrich Bonhoeffer, 1944.
miércoles, 23 de junio de 2010
Suscribirse a:
Entradas (Atom)
