ONLY AN AMAZING GRACE

Amazing Grace,

how sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me....

I once was lost but now am found,

Was blind, but now,

I see.

T'was Grace that taught...my heart to fear.

And Grace, my fears relieved.

How precious did that Grace appear...the hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares...we have already come.

T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far...and Grace will lead us home.

The Lord has promised good to me...

His word my hope secures.

He will my shield and portion be...as long as life endures.

When we've been here ten thousand years...bright shining as the sun.

We've no less days to sing God's praise...then when we've first begun.

"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me....

I once was lost but now am found,

Was blind, but now,

I see.

Um dia . . . . . .

Um dia, descobrimos que beijar uma pessoa para esquecer outra, é bobagem.
Você não só não esquece a outra pessoa como pensa muito mais nela...
Um dia, nós percebemos que as mulheres tem instinto "caçador" e fazem qualquer homem sofrer.
Um dia, descobrimos que se apaixonar é inevitável.
Um dia, percebemos que as melhores provas de amor são as mais simples.
Um dia, percebemos que o comum não nos atrai.
Um dia, saberemos que ser classificado como o "bonzinho" não é bom.
Um dia, percebemos que a pessoa que nunca te liga é a que mais pensa em você.
Um dia, saberemos a importância da frase: " tu te tornas eternamente responsável por aquilo que cativas."
Um dia, perceberemos que somos muito importantes para alguém mas não damos valor a isso. Um dia, perceberemos como aquele amigo faz falta, mas aí já é tarde demais.
Enfim, um dia, descobriremos que, apesar de viver quase um século, esse tempo todo não é suficiente para realizarmos todos os nossos sonhos, para beijarmos todas as bocas que nos atraem, para dizer tudo o que tem que ser dito...
O jeito é: ou nos conformamos com a falta de algumas coisas na nossa vida ou lutamos para realizar todas nossas loucuras...
Quem não compreende um olhar tampouco compreenderá uma longa explicação.











Mário Quintana

A GRANDIOSIDADE NO SILENCIO

Será que algum dia já paramos para refletir o quão forte e o psiu . . . . .
O mesmo psiu que nos faz sermos gerados no ventre materno;
O psiu que nos acompanha no leito mortal;
O psiu que cala nossos sedentos lábios em um beijo;
O psiu de um olhar que aprova e reprova;
O psiu que e quebrado pelo choro de um filho a noite que clama pelo seu carinho;
O psiu de um abraço forte;
O psiu
O psi
O ps
O p
O

psiu

EU TENHO UM SONHO - ATENDENDO AO PEDIDO DA TANI RSRSRSRSRS

Eu Tenho Um Sonho Martin Luther King, Jr. 28 de agosto de 1963 Washington, D.C.
Quando os arquitetos de nossa república escreveram as magníficas palavras da Constituição e da Declaração de Indepêndencia, estavam assinando uma nota promissória de que todo norte americano seria herdeiro. Esta nota foi a promessa de que todos os homens, sim, homens negros assim como homens brancos, teriam garantidos os inalienáveis direitos à vida, liberdade e busca de felicidade.
Mas existe algo que preciso dizer à minha gente, que se encontra no cálido limiar que leva ao templo da Justiça. No processo de consecução de nosso legítimo lugar, precisamos não ser culpados de atos errados. Não procuremos satisfazer a nossa sede de liberdade bebendo na taça da amargura e do ódio. Precisamos conduzir nossa luta, para sempre, no alto plano da dignidade e da disciplina. Precisamos não permitir que nosso protesto criativo gere violência físicas. Muitas vezes, precisamos elevar-nos às majestosas alturas do encontro da força física com a força da alma; e a maravilhosa e nova combatividade que engolfou a comunidade negra não deve levar-nos à desconfiança de todas as pessoas brancas. Isto porque muitos de nosssos irmãos brancos, como está evidenciado em sua presença hoje aqui, vieram a compreender que seu destino está ligado a nosso destino. E vieram a compreender que sua liberdade está inextricavelmente unida a nossa liberdade. Não podemos caminhar sozinhos. E quando caminhamos, precisamos assumir o compromisso de que sempre iremos adiante. Não podemos voltar.
Digo-lhes hoje, meus amigos, embora nos defrontemos com as dificuldades de hoje e de amnhã, que eu ainda tenho um sonho. E um sonho profundamente enraizado no sonho norte americano.
Eu tenho um sonho de que um dia, esta nação se erguerá e viverá o verdadeiro significado de seus princípios: "Achamos que estas verdades são evidentes por elas mesmas, que todos os homens são criados iguais".
Eu tenho um sonho de que, um dia, nas rubras colinas da Geórgia, os filhos de antigos escravos e os filhos de antigos senhores de escravos poderão sentar-se juntos à mesa da fraternidade.
Eu tenho um sonho de que, um dia, até mesmo o estado de Mississipi, um estado sufocado pelo calor da injustiça, será transformado num oásis de liberdade e justiça.
Eu tenho um sonho de que meus quatro filhinhos, um dia, viverão numa nação onde não serão julgados pela cor de sua pele e sim pelo conteúdo de seu caráter.
Quando deixarmos soar a liberdade, quando a deixarmos soar em cada povoação e em cada lugarejo, em cada estado e em cada cidade, poderemos acelerar o advento daquele dia em que todos os filhos de Deus, homens negros e homens brancos, judeus e cristãos, protestantes e católicos, poderão dar-se as mãos e cantar com as palavras do antigo spiritual negro: " Livres, enfim. Livres, enfim. Agradecemos a Deus, todo poderoso, somos livres, enfim.

I HAVE A DREAM

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!
But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, When we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"