Domingo, 3 de Outubro de 2010

«I only knew what hunted thought
  Quickened his step, and why
He looked upon the garish day
  With such a wistful eye;
The man had killed the thing he loved
  And so he had to die.

Yet each man kills the thing he loves
  By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
  Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
  The brave man with a sword!

 

Some kill their love when they are young,
  And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
  Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
  The dead so soon grow cold.

 

Some love too little, some too long,
  Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
  And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
  Yet each man does not die.»

 

Oscar Wilde, The Ballad of Reading Gaol (excerto).



# Tiago Moreira Ramalho às 13:21 | | comentar

autoria
Tiago Moreira Ramalho

twitter
arquivo do blogue

Fevereiro 2013

Novembro 2011

Outubro 2011

Setembro 2011

Julho 2011

Junho 2011

Maio 2011

Abril 2011

Março 2011

Janeiro 2011

Dezembro 2010

Novembro 2010

Outubro 2010

Setembro 2010

Agosto 2010

Julho 2010

Abril 2010

Março 2010

Fevereiro 2010

Janeiro 2010

subscrever feeds

 FeedBurner