<?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-9070552</id><updated>2012-01-28T07:18:28.016Z</updated><title type='text'>Sanhas</title><subtitle type='html'>Este blogue é uma espécie de montagem pessoal... como o próprio nome o indica.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>409</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-2743372477851016651</id><published>2008-08-12T11:33:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T11:34:56.688+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Novo endereço</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Mudei-me para &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://sanhas.wordpress.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;http://sanhas.wordpress.com/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Venham-me visitar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-2743372477851016651?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/2743372477851016651/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=2743372477851016651' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2743372477851016651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2743372477851016651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/08/novo-endereo.html' title='Novo endereço'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-228583553413409707</id><published>2008-05-28T19:23:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T20:14:05.476+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Dias menos bons</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Há dias em que me apetece fugir, desistir de tudo... É o mais fácil e talvez o mais justo, desistir do que não vale a pena e principalmente desistir das pessoas que não valem a pena e nos picam o caminho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Sim, acho justo desistir das pessoas que não valem a pena, mesmo daquelas que nos podem e lixam a vida. A solução é a defesa, é desligar e passar à frente sem dar importância. É este o desafio, a ideia. Viver num mundo de dificuldades, talvez de esgoísmo, não sei, talvez seja eu que esteja errada ao insistir que o mundo e as pessoas podiam ser melhores... Talvez o romantismo esteja fora de moda... Talvez...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-228583553413409707?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/228583553413409707/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=228583553413409707' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/228583553413409707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/228583553413409707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/05/dias-menos-bons.html' title='Dias menos bons'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-3664629876067829813</id><published>2008-04-29T17:02:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T17:09:42.446+01:00</updated><title type='text'>costurar a vida</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"A única forma de te ser fiel é costurar a vida, lentamente, pelo avesso da dor, inventar um peito onde possas deitar-te, cobrir com lenços grandes os espelhos a fim de que nada impeça o teu regresso. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Como não quis ver-te partir, estarei aqui no dia da tua chegada."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;António Lobo Antunes, in "Segundo Livro de Crónicas"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&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/9070552-3664629876067829813?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/3664629876067829813/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=3664629876067829813' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3664629876067829813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3664629876067829813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/05/costurar-vida.html' title='costurar a vida'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-92494288278248800</id><published>2008-04-19T16:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T17:02:26.014+01:00</updated><title type='text'>escritores</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"O apreço dos jovens escritores e dos aspirantes a escritores que lhe enviavam manuscritos e cartas confundia-o: como entender que houvesse mulheres e homens dispostos a existirem, quotidianamente, na aflição e na angústia?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;António Lobo Antunes, in "Segundo Livro de Crónicas"&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/9070552-92494288278248800?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/92494288278248800/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=92494288278248800' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/92494288278248800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/92494288278248800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/04/escritores.html' title='escritores'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-397053678128933051</id><published>2008-04-09T16:56:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T16:58:50.425+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Zahir</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Um ano depois, eu acordo a pensar na história de Jorge Luís Borges: algo que, uma vez tocado ou visto, nunca é esquecido e vai ocupando o nosso pensamento até nos levar à loucura."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Paulo Coelho, in "O Zahir"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-397053678128933051?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/397053678128933051/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=397053678128933051' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/397053678128933051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/397053678128933051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/05/zahir.html' title='Zahir'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-4785591658076224933</id><published>2008-03-17T20:44:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-03-17T20:54:42.125Z</updated><title type='text'>Mar Sonoro</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Mar sonoro, mar sem fundo, mar sem fim,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;A tua beleza aumenta quando estamos sós&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;E tão fundo intimamente a tua voz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Segue o mais discreto bailar do meu sonho,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Que momentos há em que eu suponho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Seres um milagre criado só para mim."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-4785591658076224933?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/4785591658076224933/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=4785591658076224933' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4785591658076224933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4785591658076224933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/mar-sonoro.html' title='Mar Sonoro'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-3221164739760063856</id><published>2008-03-06T12:10:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-03-06T12:17:16.915Z</updated><title type='text'>El amor en los tiempos del colera</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ut49aOMAMVo"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ut49aOMAMVo" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-3221164739760063856?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/3221164739760063856/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=3221164739760063856' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3221164739760063856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3221164739760063856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/gabriel-garcia-marquez-el-amor-en-los.html' title='El amor en los tiempos del colera'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-1874156559822922616</id><published>2008-03-05T22:26:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-03-05T22:29:11.027Z</updated><title type='text'>o amor</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Tinha de ensiná-la a pensar no amor como um estado de graça que não era um meio para nada, mas sim um princípio e um fim em si mesmo."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&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/9070552-1874156559822922616?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/1874156559822922616/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=1874156559822922616' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1874156559822922616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1874156559822922616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/o-amor.html' title='o amor'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-425689137573822259</id><published>2008-03-05T22:21:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-03-05T22:26:28.003Z</updated><title type='text'>para lá do amor</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Seguiam em silêncio como dois velhos esposos escaldados pela vida, para lá das armadilhas da paixão, para lá das trapaças brutais das ilusões e dos reflexos dos desenganos: para lá do amor. Pois tinham vivido juntos o suficiente para se darem conta de que o amor era amor em qualquer tempo e em qualquer lugar, mas tanto mais denso quanto mais próximo da morte."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&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/9070552-425689137573822259?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/425689137573822259/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=425689137573822259' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/425689137573822259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/425689137573822259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/para-l-do-amor.html' title='para lá do amor'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-8503331370882964206</id><published>2008-03-05T22:04:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-03-05T22:18:25.132Z</updated><title type='text'>um único ser dividido</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Acabaram por se conhecer tão bem que em menos de trinta e dois anos de casados eram um único ser dividido e sentiam-se incomodados com a frequência com que adivinhavam, sem querer, os pensamentos, um do outro, ou pelo acidente ridículo de um se antecipar, em público, ao que o outro tinha para dizer. Tinham lidado juntos com as incompreensões quotidianas, os ódios instantâneos, as maldadezinhas recíprocas e os fabulosos relâmpagos de glória da cumplicidade conjugal. Foi a época em que se amaram melhor, sem pressas e sem excessos, e foram os dois mais conscientes e mais agradecidos pelas suas vitórias inverosímeis contra a adversidade. A vida ainda lhes depararia outras provas mortais, evidentemente, as já não importava: estavam na outra margem.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera" &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/9070552-8503331370882964206?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/8503331370882964206/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=8503331370882964206' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8503331370882964206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8503331370882964206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/um-nico-ser-dividido.html' title='um único ser dividido'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-6348826247262379970</id><published>2008-03-05T22:01:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-03-05T22:12:19.332Z</updated><title type='text'>a vida mundana</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;“A vida mundana, que lhe trazia tanta insegurança antes de a conhecer, não era mais que um sistema de pactos atávicos, de cerimónias banais, de palavras previstas, com o qual, em sociedade, se entretinham uns aos outros para não se assassinarem.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&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/9070552-6348826247262379970?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/6348826247262379970/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=6348826247262379970' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/6348826247262379970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/6348826247262379970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/vida-mundana.html' title='a vida mundana'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-40078492083996861</id><published>2008-03-05T22:00:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-03-05T22:12:51.075Z</updated><title type='text'>o homem</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;“Só elas sabiam quanto pesava o homem que amavam com loucura e que talvez as amasse, mas que tinham tido que continuar a criar até ao último suspiro, dando-lhe de mamar, mudando-lhe as fraldas sujas, distraindo-o com historinhas de mãe para lhes aliviar o terror de sair de manhã e dar de cara com a realidade. E, no entanto, quando o viam sair de casa, instigado põe elas próprias a engolir o mundo, então eram elas que se ficavam com o terror de que o homem não voltasse nunca. Isso era a vida. O amor, se o houvesse, era uma coisa à parte: outra vida.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&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/9070552-40078492083996861?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/40078492083996861/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=40078492083996861' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/40078492083996861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/40078492083996861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/o-homem.html' title='o homem'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-7023637408808067975</id><published>2008-03-04T10:59:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-03-05T22:15:20.459Z</updated><title type='text'>virgindade</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;“Florentino Ariza tinha-a libertado da virgindade de um casamento convencional, que era mais pernicioso do que a virgindade congénita e do que a abstinência da viuvez. Tinha-lhe ensinado que nada do que se fizer na cama é imoral se contribuir para perpetuar o amor.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&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/9070552-7023637408808067975?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/7023637408808067975/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=7023637408808067975' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7023637408808067975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7023637408808067975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/virgindade.html' title='virgindade'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-959210773149978652</id><published>2008-03-04T10:58:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-03-05T22:15:42.080Z</updated><title type='text'>a vida</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;“… os seres humanos não nascem para sempre no dia em que as suas que as suas mães os dão à luz, mas a vida os obriga uma e outra vez ainda a parirem-se a si mesmos.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&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/9070552-959210773149978652?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/959210773149978652/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=959210773149978652' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/959210773149978652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/959210773149978652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/vida.html' title='a vida'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-7534199744047117202</id><published>2008-03-04T10:56:00.005Z</published><updated>2008-03-05T22:20:45.757Z</updated><title type='text'>a cidade</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Eram assim: passavam a vida a proclamar o orgulho da sua origem, os méritos históricos da cidade, o preço das suas relíquias, o seu heroísmo e beleza, mas eram cegos ao caruncho dos anos. (…)&lt;br /&gt;- Que nobre é esta cidade – dizia – que há quatrocentos anos que estamos a tentar dar cabo dela e ainda não conseguimos.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&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/9070552-7534199744047117202?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/7534199744047117202/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=7534199744047117202' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7534199744047117202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7534199744047117202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/cidade.html' title='a cidade'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-3180628604377607963</id><published>2008-03-03T21:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-03-05T22:07:02.574Z</updated><title type='text'>a memória do coração</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Era ainda demasiado jovem para saber que a memória do coração elimina as más recordações e exalta as boas e que, graças a esse artifício conseguimos suportar o passado.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&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/9070552-3180628604377607963?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/3180628604377607963/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=3180628604377607963' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3180628604377607963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3180628604377607963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/memria-do-corao.html' title='a memória do coração'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-4622756947754330754</id><published>2008-03-03T21:54:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-03-05T22:05:42.491Z</updated><title type='text'>o pai</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Subitamente revelou-se a fundo a imagem do homem a quem conhecera antes de qualquer outro, que o tinha criado e educado, que dormira e fornicara durante trinta e dois anos com a sua mãe e que, no entanto, nunca antes dessa carta se lhe tinha mostrado tal como era em corpo e alma, por timidez pura e simples.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&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/9070552-4622756947754330754?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/4622756947754330754/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=4622756947754330754' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4622756947754330754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4622756947754330754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/o-pai.html' title='o pai'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-8097523730440589373</id><published>2008-03-03T21:49:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-03-05T22:04:02.630Z</updated><title type='text'>olhar por cima do ombro</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Mas no meio da desordem da saída, senti-o tão próximo, tão nítido naquela confusão, que uma força irresistível a obrigou a olhar por cima do ombro ao sair do tempo pela nave central e então viu, a dois palmos dos seus olhos, os outros olhos de gelo, o rosto pálido, os lábios petrificados pelo susto do amor.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&lt;/span&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/9070552-8097523730440589373?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/8097523730440589373/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=8097523730440589373' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8097523730440589373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8097523730440589373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/olhar-por-cima-do-ombro.html' title='olhar por cima do ombro'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-7983774894832328</id><published>2008-03-02T22:19:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-03-02T22:43:35.364Z</updated><title type='text'>Carne para convento</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"As duas irmãs, contra as suas graças naturais e a sua vocação festiva, eram carne para convento."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&lt;br /&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/9070552-7983774894832328?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/7983774894832328/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=7983774894832328' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7983774894832328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7983774894832328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/carne-para-convento.html' title='Carne para convento'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-4349373522612534615</id><published>2008-03-02T22:16:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-03-02T22:20:21.710Z</updated><title type='text'>Um reino inclemente e mesquinho</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Lembrou-lhe que os fracos não entrariam jamais no reino do amor, que é um reino inclemente e mesquinho, e que as mulheres só se entregam a homens decididos porque esses lhe incutem a segurança tão ansiada para enfrentar a vida."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/9070552-4349373522612534615?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/4349373522612534615/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=4349373522612534615' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4349373522612534615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4349373522612534615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/um-reino-inclemente-e-mesquinho.html' title='Um reino inclemente e mesquinho'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-5732231768248798975</id><published>2008-03-02T21:55:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-03-02T22:11:02.626Z</updated><title type='text'>Gabriel García Márquez</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/__cP8v416l0c/R8sicDWlTMI/AAAAAAAAAQU/kA37AzfmOC4/s1600-h/garcia184.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173266462296853698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/__cP8v416l0c/R8sicDWlTMI/AAAAAAAAAQU/kA37AzfmOC4/s320/garcia184.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.resumolivro.com/gabriel-garcia-marquez.htm"&gt;Biografia de Gabriel García Márquez&lt;/a&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/9070552-5732231768248798975?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/5732231768248798975/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=5732231768248798975' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5732231768248798975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5732231768248798975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/gabriel-garca-mrquez.html' title='Gabriel García Márquez'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/__cP8v416l0c/R8sicDWlTMI/AAAAAAAAAQU/kA37AzfmOC4/s72-c/garcia184.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-7428682998526264624</id><published>2008-03-02T21:46:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-03-02T21:51:41.370Z</updated><title type='text'>Súplica</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Suplicou a Deus que lhe concedesse pelo menos um instante para que ele não se fosse sem saber o quanto ela o tinha amado, ultrapassando as dúvidas de ambos, e sentiu um ímpeto irresistível de começar a vida com ele outra vez desde o princípio para se dizerem tudo quanto lhes tinha ficado por dizer, e voltar a fazer bem qualquer coisa que tivessem feito mal no passado."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/9070552-7428682998526264624?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/7428682998526264624/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=7428682998526264624' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7428682998526264624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7428682998526264624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/splica.html' title='Súplica'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-8271147623961408146</id><published>2008-03-02T21:43:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-03-02T21:46:26.438Z</updated><title type='text'>Quando a sabedoria chega...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Outra coisa bem diferente teria sido a vida para eles, se tivessem sabido a tempo que era mais fácil ultrapassar as grandes catástrofes matrimoniais que as misérias minúsculas do dia-a-dia. Mas se alguma coisa tinham aprendido juntos era que a sabedoria chega quando já não nos serve para nada."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&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/9070552-8271147623961408146?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/8271147623961408146/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=8271147623961408146' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8271147623961408146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8271147623961408146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/quando-sabedoria-chega.html' title='Quando a sabedoria chega...'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-3048742713685608733</id><published>2008-03-02T21:37:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-03-02T21:43:12.113Z</updated><title type='text'>Amores lentos e difíceis</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Os seus amores eram lentos e difíceis, perturbados amiúde por presságios sinistros, e a vida parecia-lhes interminável."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-3048742713685608733?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/3048742713685608733/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=3048742713685608733' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3048742713685608733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3048742713685608733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/amores-lentos-e-difceis.html' title='Amores lentos e difíceis'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-2820709949738891868</id><published>2008-03-02T21:26:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-03-02T21:33:57.931Z</updated><title type='text'>Sucumbindo ao desespero</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Jeremiah de Saint-Amour amava a vida com uma paixão sem sentido, amava o mar e o amor, ia sucumbindo ao desespero, como se a sua morte não tivesse sido uma decisão sua mas um destino ineroxável."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-2820709949738891868?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/2820709949738891868/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=2820709949738891868' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2820709949738891868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2820709949738891868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/sucumbindo-ao-desespero.html' title='Sucumbindo ao desespero'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-1530613516934342230</id><published>2008-03-02T20:41:00.009Z</published><updated>2008-03-02T21:35:24.440Z</updated><title type='text'>Todo o medicamento era veneno</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Pensava que de um ponto de vista rigoroso todo o medicamento era veneno e que setenta por cento dos alimentos vulgares apressavam a morte."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, em "O Amor nos Tempos de Cólera"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-1530613516934342230?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/1530613516934342230/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=1530613516934342230' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1530613516934342230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1530613516934342230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/03/todo-o-medicamento-era-veneno.html' title='Todo o medicamento era veneno'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-5838183129222967649</id><published>2008-02-17T17:25:00.008Z</published><updated>2008-02-17T17:36:03.771Z</updated><title type='text'>Sobreviver</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"«Você acha que eu estou transtornada, mas que me vai passar. Lágrimas fáceis, pensa você, lágrimas piegas, hoje presentes, amanhã já secas. Pois bem, é verdade, já me aconteceu estar transtornada, imaginar que não podia haver no mundo nada pior, e depois o pior aconteceu, como infalivelmente acontece, e eu sobrevivi, pelo menos em aparência. Mas o problema é esse! Para não ficar paralisada de vergonha, tive de passar a vida a sobreviver ao pior. E é a esta &lt;em&gt;sobrevivência&lt;/em&gt; que já não sobrevivo. Se sobreviver desta vez, já não terei outra oportunidade de &lt;em&gt;não&lt;/em&gt; sobreviver. Para bem da minha própria ressurreição, não posso sobreviver desta vez.»"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J. M. Coetzee, em "A Idade do Ferro"&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/9070552-5838183129222967649?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/5838183129222967649/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=5838183129222967649' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5838183129222967649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5838183129222967649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/02/sobreviver.html' title='Sobreviver'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-4262283427891741599</id><published>2008-02-17T17:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-17T17:18:47.627Z</updated><title type='text'>Hallelujah</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/weygNZphUxI&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/weygNZphUxI&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-4262283427891741599?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/4262283427891741599/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=4262283427891741599' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4262283427891741599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4262283427891741599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/02/hallelujah.html' title='Hallelujah'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-5746956500118821370</id><published>2008-02-17T16:43:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-02-17T17:07:51.747Z</updated><title type='text'>Ganhar terreno</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Alguma coisa dentro de mim faz pressão, procura ganhar terreno. Tento não lhe ligar, mas a coisa insiste. Cedo uma polegada; a pressão aumenta. Cedo com alívio, e a vida volta de repente à normalidade. Entrego-me de novo com alívio à normalidade. Mergulho nela de cabeça. Perco a vergonha, fico desavergonhada como uma criança. A vergonha dessa desvergonha: eis o que não posso esquecer, eis o que depois tanto me custa suportar. É por isso que tenho de me dominar, de me virar de frente para a descida. Se não o fizer, perco-me de vez."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;J. M. Coetzee, em "A Idade do Ferro"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-5746956500118821370?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/5746956500118821370/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=5746956500118821370' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5746956500118821370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5746956500118821370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/02/ganhar-terreno.html' title='Ganhar terreno'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-7679918959178436840</id><published>2008-02-07T19:34:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-07T19:42:50.305Z</updated><title type='text'>Se nada se mexer</title><content type='html'>"Se nada se mexer é o tempo eterno, o suor, a camisa pegajosa sobre a pele e o morto impávido e gelado por detrás da sua língua mordida."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gabriel García Marquez, em "A Revoada"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-7679918959178436840?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/7679918959178436840/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=7679918959178436840' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7679918959178436840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7679918959178436840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/02/se-nada-se-mexer.html' title='Se nada se mexer'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-4849641193257037560</id><published>2008-01-12T14:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-12T14:34:03.944Z</updated><title type='text'>Há dentro de nós um poço</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Há dentro de nós um poço. No fundo dele é que estamos, porque está o que é mais nós, o que nos individualiza, a fonte do que nos enriquece no em que somos humanos. E a vida exterior, o assalto do que nos rodeia, o que visa é esse íntimo de nós para o ocupar, o preencher, o esvaziar do que nos pertence e nos faz ser homens. Jamais como hoje esse assalto foi tão violento, jamais como hoje fomos invadidos do que não é nós. É lá nesse fundo que se gera a espiritualidade, a gravidade do sermos, o encantamento da arte. E a nossa luta é terrível, para nos defendermos no último recesso da nossa intimidade. Porque tudo nos expulsa de lá Quando essa intimidade for preenchida pelo exterior, quando a materialidade se nos for depositando dentro, o homem definitivamente terá em nós morrido."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Vergílio Ferreira, in 'Conta-Corrente IV' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-4849641193257037560?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/4849641193257037560/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=4849641193257037560' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4849641193257037560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4849641193257037560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/01/h-dentro-de-ns-um-poo.html' title='Há dentro de nós um poço'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-1254366799797396896</id><published>2008-01-09T12:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-09T12:25:48.437Z</updated><title type='text'>Simone de Beauvoir</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://lafrusta.homestead.com/files/beauvoir.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://lafrusta.homestead.com/files/beauvoir.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://afp.google.com/article/ALeqM5i3LED0DU4Ii89M7ptsiK9b_tsLZw"&gt;Simone de Beauvoir, cem anos de feminismo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&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/9070552-1254366799797396896?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/1254366799797396896/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=1254366799797396896' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1254366799797396896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1254366799797396896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/01/simone-de-beauvoir.html' title='Simone de Beauvoir'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-8222108045251116869</id><published>2008-01-07T16:54:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-12T14:35:46.235Z</updated><title type='text'>A Primeira Palavra que em Toda a Minha Vida me Esgotou o Ser</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Uma palavra. Disse-a. Amo-te - uma palavra breve. Quantos milhões de palavras eu disse durante a vida. E ouvi. E pensei. Tudo se desfez. Palavras sem inteira significação em si, o professor devia ter razão. Palavras que remetiam umas para as outras e se encostavam umas às outras para se aguentarem na sua rede aérea de sons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas houve uma palavra - meu Deus. Uma palavra que eu disse e repercutiu em ti, palavra cheia, quente de sangue, palavra vinda das vísceras, da minha vida inteira, do universo que nela se conglomerava, palavra total. Todas as outras palavras estavam a mais e dispensavam-se e eram uma articulação ridícula de sons e mobilizavam apenas a parte mecânica de mim, a parte frágil e vã. Palavra absoluta no entendimento profundo do meu olhar no teu, palavra infinita como o verbo divino.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recordo-a agora - onde está? Como se desfez? Ou não desfez mas se alterou e resfriou e absorveu apenas a fracção de mim onde estava a ternura triste, o conforto humilde, a compaixão. Não haverá então uma palavra que perdure e me exprima todo para a vida inteira? E não deixe de mim um recanto oculto que não venha à sua chamada e vibre nela desde os mais finos filamentos de si?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Uma palavra. Recupero-a agora na minha imaginação doente. Amo-te. Na intimidade exclusiva e ciumenta do nosso olhar mútuo e encantado.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fecha-nos o lençol na claridade difusa do amanhecer, estás perto de mim no intocável da tua doçura. Frágil de névoa. Fímbria de sorriso e de receio, de pavor, no meu olhar embevecido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma palavra. A primeira que em toda a minha vida me esgotou o ser. A que foi tão completa e absorvente, que tudo o mais foi um excesso na criação. Deus esgotou em mim, na minha boca, todo o prodígio do seu poder. Ao princípio era a palavra. Eu a soube. E nada mais houve depois dela."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vergílio Ferreira, in "Para Sempre" &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/9070552-8222108045251116869?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/8222108045251116869/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=8222108045251116869' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8222108045251116869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8222108045251116869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/01/primeira-palavra-que-em-toda-minha-vida.html' title='A Primeira Palavra que em Toda a Minha Vida me Esgotou o Ser'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-2102134837651691683</id><published>2008-01-04T16:38:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-07T17:01:44.756Z</updated><title type='text'>Maior Prazer Dar que Receber</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Uma das leis cómicas da vida é a seguinte: é amado não quem dá, mas quem exige. Quer dizer, é amado aquele que não ama, porque quem ama dá. E compreende-se: dar é um prazer mais inesquecível do que receber; a pessoa a quem damos, torna-se-nos necessária, quer dizer que a amamos. Dar é uma paixão, quase um vício. A pessoa a quem damos, torna-se-nos necessária."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Cesare Pavese, in "O Ofício de Viver"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-2102134837651691683?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/2102134837651691683/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=2102134837651691683' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2102134837651691683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2102134837651691683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/01/maior-prazer-dar-que-receber.html' title='Maior Prazer Dar que Receber'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-5836253531350530765</id><published>2008-01-03T16:29:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-07T17:01:18.167Z</updated><title type='text'>A Recuperação da Alma</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Quando a uma árvore são cortados os ramos da copa, vão-lhe nascendo mais perto da raiz novos rebentos. Do mesmo modo, também as almas que ao despontar adoecem e quase fenecem regressam frequentemente à primavera dos sentimentos, à apreensiva infância onde tudo começa, como se aí pudessem encontrar novas esperanças e reatar o fio condutor da vida que antes fora quebrado. Os rebentos que brotaram perto das raízes anseiam por uma rápida ascensão, mas tudo não passa de uma ilusão, pois nunca a partir deles se voltará a desenvolver uma verdadeira árvore." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Hermann Hesse, in "Hans"&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/9070552-5836253531350530765?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/5836253531350530765/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=5836253531350530765' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5836253531350530765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5836253531350530765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2008/01/recuperao-da-alma.html' title='A Recuperação da Alma'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-2024002627216401512</id><published>2007-12-23T12:48:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-23T12:49:09.648Z</updated><title type='text'>What Child Is This</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5EM7FaOc3Zk&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5EM7FaOc3Zk&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-2024002627216401512?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/2024002627216401512/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=2024002627216401512' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2024002627216401512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2024002627216401512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/12/what-child-is-this.html' title='What Child Is This'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-693737770449422269</id><published>2007-12-23T12:31:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-23T12:35:34.975Z</updated><title type='text'>Panis Angelicus</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bEDhM6WKQdw&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bEDhM6WKQdw&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-693737770449422269?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/693737770449422269/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=693737770449422269' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/693737770449422269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/693737770449422269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/12/panis-angelicus.html' title='Panis Angelicus'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-7049075213962644951</id><published>2007-12-21T18:17:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-21T18:19:12.297Z</updated><title type='text'>Imagem fantástica...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/__cP8v416l0c/R2wDZezgXbI/AAAAAAAAAPs/lgknT0rau4s/s1600-h/mcnaught3_kemppainen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146492210478341554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/__cP8v416l0c/R2wDZezgXbI/AAAAAAAAAPs/lgknT0rau4s/s400/mcnaught3_kemppainen.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-7049075213962644951?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/7049075213962644951/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=7049075213962644951' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7049075213962644951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7049075213962644951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/12/imagem-fantstica.html' title='Imagem fantástica...'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/__cP8v416l0c/R2wDZezgXbI/AAAAAAAAAPs/lgknT0rau4s/s72-c/mcnaught3_kemppainen.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-1330123001478808163</id><published>2007-12-21T18:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-21T18:14:03.329Z</updated><title type='text'>A expressão dos olhos transparentes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Então, nessa semana, Lia pôs-se a desenhar muito e, por falta de guache, usou a tinta de escrever com água para preencher as superfícies e lhes dar volume, e com os dedos tornejava para captar a forma e a expressão dos olhos transparentes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Margarida Rios, em "O Eléctrico do Exílio"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-1330123001478808163?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/1330123001478808163/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=1330123001478808163' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1330123001478808163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1330123001478808163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/12/expresso-dos-olhos-transparentes.html' title='A expressão dos olhos transparentes'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-6499076841811141798</id><published>2007-12-02T21:16:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-02T21:29:40.715Z</updated><title type='text'>A tua lembrança</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Os teus olhos não têm cor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;O teu rosto não tem traços.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;A tua imagem permanece invisível.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;O eco da tua voz ficou retido nas profundezas das montanhas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Os passos que sobrevoam a imaginação.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Os gestos que ainda me tocam.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;As lembranças que preenchem o vazio da tua ausência.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Sandra Bastos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Novembro 2007&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-6499076841811141798?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/6499076841811141798/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=6499076841811141798' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/6499076841811141798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/6499076841811141798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/12/tua-lembrana.html' title='A tua lembrança'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-2400379789257498475</id><published>2007-11-25T12:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-25T12:32:24.396Z</updated><title type='text'>Eu Sei...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Há letras de músicas engraçadas, mas eficazes. Encontrei uma realmente simples...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=AKEoT7NQNiU"&gt;EU SEI&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Eu sei...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Tudo pode acontecer...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Eu sei...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Nosso amor não vai morrer...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Vou pedir aos Céus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Você aqui comigo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Vou jogar no mar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Flores para te encontrar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Não sei...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Porquê você disse adeus...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Guardei...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;o beijo que você me deu...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;You say goodbye...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;And I say hello..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-2400379789257498475?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/2400379789257498475/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=2400379789257498475' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2400379789257498475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2400379789257498475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/11/eu-sei.html' title='Eu Sei...'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-7515319634302148961</id><published>2007-11-24T20:56:00.001Z</published><updated>2007-11-24T20:56:46.092Z</updated><title type='text'>Mask of Zorro</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kjJr2cyvQMg&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kjJr2cyvQMg&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-7515319634302148961?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/7515319634302148961/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=7515319634302148961' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7515319634302148961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7515319634302148961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/11/mask-of-zorro.html' title='Mask of Zorro'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-7201005046487256010</id><published>2007-11-21T13:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-21T13:21:05.297Z</updated><title type='text'>Quem arrisca...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Quem não arrisca não petisca. Quem arrisca pode não petiscar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Quem arrisca pode ganhar mas pode perder e nada ganhar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Quem arrisca arrisca-se a tudo e quem não arrisca arrisca-se a nada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Lutar por um objectivo, por um sonho implica arriscar. Nem sempre será esta a melhor solução. Às vezes é melhor não chegar sequer a sonhar muito menos desejar que o sonho se torne realidade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Saber quando se deve arriscar, quanto se pode ganhar e perder... eis a questão! Arriscar ou não arriscar é sempre um risco...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Sandra Bastos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-7201005046487256010?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/7201005046487256010/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=7201005046487256010' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7201005046487256010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7201005046487256010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/11/quem-arrisca.html' title='Quem arrisca...'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-203455813544516816</id><published>2007-11-19T15:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-19T16:03:40.285Z</updated><title type='text'>A chuva, o frio e o calor</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Quem anda à chuva molha-se e quem anda ao calor aquece-se.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Hoje está a chover, mas como estou dentro de casa, não estou molhada (a não ser que estivesse a tomar banho, nesse caso não estaria aqui a escrever), estou ao calor, por isso estou quentinha :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Não gosto de usar guarda-chuva e também não gosto de usar muita roupa, mesmo com os pertinentes avisos de que me posso dar mal. Fujo da chuva mas quando me abrigo já estou toda molhada e nem assim me apetece trocar de roupa... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;O frio é mais perigoso. Sinto-o logo e corro à procura de agasalho mas nem assim deixo de sofrer as suas maldades por isso às vezes nem lhe ligo, saio para a rua e ignoro-o até que ele me vença, o que acaba sempre por acontecer. Uma luta sem hipótese de vitória, só mesmo no campo de refúgio me posso defender e às vezes nem assim!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;O calor está no prazer da felicidade. Sabe sempre bem, independentemente da forma que encarnar. Confortável, apetece jamais largar, preenche todos os espaços e fortifica-me ao ponto de me sentir capaz de enfrentar o perigoso frio!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;A chuva, o frio e o calor são sempre metáforas interessantes...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Sandra Bastos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-203455813544516816?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/203455813544516816/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=203455813544516816' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/203455813544516816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/203455813544516816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/11/chuva-o-frio-e-o-calor.html' title='A chuva, o frio e o calor'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-2587361635010035817</id><published>2007-11-14T09:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-14T09:33:58.166Z</updated><title type='text'>Apenas um minuto</title><content type='html'>UM MINUTO&lt;br /&gt;Um minuto serve para sorrires:&lt;br /&gt;sorrir para o outro, para ti e para a vida.&lt;br /&gt;Um minuto serve para veres o caminho,&lt;br /&gt;olhar a flor, sentir o cheiro da flor,&lt;br /&gt;sentir a relva molhada,&lt;br /&gt;notar a transparência da água.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basta um minuto para avaliares a imensidão do infinito,&lt;br /&gt;mesmo sem poder entendê-lo.&lt;br /&gt;Num minuto apenas, ouves o som dos pássaros que não voltam mais.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um minuto serve para ouvires o silêncio,&lt;br /&gt;ou começar uma canção.&lt;br /&gt;É num minuto que darás o sim que modificará a tua vida...&lt;br /&gt;E basta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basta um minuto para apertares a mão de alguém,&lt;br /&gt;e conquistar um novo amigo.&lt;br /&gt;Num minuto podes sentir a responsabilidade pesar nos teus ombros :&lt;br /&gt;a tristeza da derrota,&lt;br /&gt;a amargura da incerteza,&lt;br /&gt;o gelo da solidão,&lt;br /&gt;a ansiedade da espera,&lt;br /&gt;a marca da decepção e a alegria da vitória...&lt;br /&gt;Quanta vitória se decide num simples momento,&lt;br /&gt;num simples minuto !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Num minuto podes amar,&lt;br /&gt;buscar, compartilhar, perdoar,&lt;br /&gt;esperar, crer, vencer e ser ...&lt;br /&gt;Num simples minuto podes salvar a tua vida...&lt;br /&gt;Num pequeno minuto podes incentivar alguém ou desanimá-lo !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basta um minuto para recomeçares&lt;br /&gt;a reconstrução de um lar ou de uma vida ...&lt;br /&gt;Basta um minuto de atenção para fazeres feliz um filho,&lt;br /&gt;um aluno, um professor, um semelhante ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basta um minuto para entenderes&lt;br /&gt;que a eternidade é feita de minutos...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Autor desconhecido)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-2587361635010035817?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/2587361635010035817/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=2587361635010035817' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2587361635010035817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2587361635010035817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/11/apenas-um-minuto.html' title='Apenas um minuto'/><author><name>Esperança Martins</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00598006898282954305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-7338460647739546138</id><published>2007-11-13T19:44:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-13T19:45:06.993Z</updated><title type='text'>Michael Buble - Sway</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rQT3wZhCKYk&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rQT3wZhCKYk&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-7338460647739546138?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/7338460647739546138/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=7338460647739546138' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7338460647739546138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7338460647739546138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/11/michael-buble-sway.html' title='Michael Buble - Sway'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-295563941654929311</id><published>2007-11-13T17:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-13T17:35:34.381Z</updated><title type='text'>Um mundo à parte</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Degraus pequenos a descer e a subir. Sons idênticos que tocam bem fundo. O som que se prende na alma e percorre as veias descontroladamente... Os sons que ardem e incendeiam como palavras. Ficava a ouvir para sempre até o som se esgotar no infinito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Um mundo onde me cruzo com a liberdade sem lhe tocar mas sem parar de a admirar. Um deslumbramento pelo que sonhei. Um mundo que me viu crescer e ainda me completa. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Olho para trás segura de que não foi um erro, mas um crescimento, não foi um fracasso mas uma aprendizagem, não foi uma estupidez mas um desafio superado e muitos sonhos realizados!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Sem penas. É hora de seguir em frente sem lamentações porque o maior medo é não querer viver!...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Sandra Bastos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-295563941654929311?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/295563941654929311/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=295563941654929311' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/295563941654929311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/295563941654929311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/11/um-mundo-parte.html' title='Um mundo à parte'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-8778154942840551926</id><published>2007-11-13T15:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-13T16:13:23.684Z</updated><title type='text'>Imagens dispersas</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Imagens dispersas numa memória menos vaga. Fogem os fantasmas, resta a paz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;No limite das forças, no limite da possibilidade. O peso da fraqueza. Ligada apenas por um fio minúsculo e frágil. Passar o limite, cair e recomeçar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;As respostas que não encontro sem que nunca as deixasse de procurar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; Uma missão que me inquieta. Nada a perder, talvez o sofrimento que me dilacerou. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Pensar. Ideias desordenadas. Não consigo parar. Estou confusa. Procuro um novo ritmo nas pegadas a dar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sandra Bastos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-8778154942840551926?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/8778154942840551926/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=8778154942840551926' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8778154942840551926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8778154942840551926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/11/imagens-dispersas.html' title='Imagens dispersas'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-7338760526820163896</id><published>2007-11-12T19:40:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-15T14:11:34.109Z</updated><title type='text'>Tocas-me...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Por não te ter, não te poder tocar... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;És o som que me invade e se prende no meu corpo percorrendo as veias num estado de estremecimento que me derruba aos teus pés.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Sinto cada segundo desse som que não me larga. O encanto do teu rosto que arranca de mim o mais profundo dos suspiros. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Não me olhes assim, por favor! Não faças isso comigo! Deixa-me ir embora com a minha liberdade... Larga a minha mão, não me quero amarrar, quero viver!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;E no entanto, não paro de pensar em ti e gritar desesperadamente pelo teu amor... porque me pertences e eu de ti serei para sempre...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Sandra Bastos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-7338760526820163896?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/7338760526820163896/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=7338760526820163896' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7338760526820163896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7338760526820163896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/11/tocas-me.html' title='Tocas-me...'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-3899033835605379827</id><published>2007-11-11T15:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-11T16:01:49.530Z</updated><title type='text'>Por que vivo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Perguntas-me por que vivo eu.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Por mim, pelos que amo e me amam, pelos que pretendo amar, pelo que vivi e quero viver, pelas coisas, pelos sonhos...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Podia-te enumerar um rol de motivos que me levam a viver mas prefiro dizer-te que são mais os que me levam a viver do que a morrer. Isso basta-te?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Uma filosofia que leve ao prazer da respiração. Não penso em nada, nem em sonhos nem pesadelos. Não penso, respiro. Pensar faz mal. Pensar ocupa espaço no cérebro e gasta o tempo que já é pouco.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Claro que penso. Mas não devia. É melhor sentir. Dá prazer e felicidade. Evita problemas. Liberta as emoções. Alivia a carga pesada deixada pelo pensamento. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Sentir o chão debaixo dos pés enquanto corro. Passos sem destino, não buscam uma meta mas apenas chegar mais além.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;E afinal por que vivo eu? Talvez viver seja melhor do que morrer...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Sandra Bastos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-3899033835605379827?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/3899033835605379827/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=3899033835605379827' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3899033835605379827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3899033835605379827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/11/por-que-vivo.html' title='Por que vivo'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-3829077894029755378</id><published>2007-11-10T14:11:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-10T18:12:39.989Z</updated><title type='text'>A vida troca-nos as voltas</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Buscar o que se imagina. Encontrar o que não se espera. Perder o que não se quer. Tropeçar no que se evita. Caminhar na incerteza e com a convicção de que agora é que é. Agora é que vai ser. Até aqui foram experiências, aprendizagens, ainda não estávamos preparados. Agora sim. Agora estamos. Agora podemos tudo e de tudo somos capazes. Na máxima força!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;É neste engano que vivemos. Esperando encontrar o que nunca encontramos. Vivendo o que não esperávamos. Alcançando o que nos aparece ou conquistamos. Esquecendo o que ficou nos sonhos...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Fechar os olhos e sonhar que vivi, não o que vivo mas o que sempre quis viver. Apertar as mãos e ganhar força para ignorar que não dá para voltar atrás e recomeçar do zero, como se os obstáculos não estivessem lá ou fossem apenas mais fáceis de superar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Uma crueldade aniquilar a ingenuidade infantil que nos move e faz sorrir pelas coisas mais pequenas. Um pesadelo engolir em seco perante as adversidades, rastejar no escuro em busca de um objecto ao qual nos podemos agarrar, mesmo que caminhemos em desequilíbrio. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Depois... depois é deixar escorrer as lágrimas no calor de um abraço, na alegria de uma criança, na emoção de uma homenagem, na beleza de uma paisagem, no sentido de uma melodia...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Sandra Bastos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-3829077894029755378?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/3829077894029755378/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=3829077894029755378' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3829077894029755378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3829077894029755378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/11/vida-troca-nos-as-voltas.html' title='A vida troca-nos as voltas'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-4984867909107197214</id><published>2007-11-06T20:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-06T20:32:11.706Z</updated><title type='text'>Um puzzle inacabado</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Os últimos meses parecem-me anos. Pessoas e lugares que me cruzam constantemente num nó de confusão onde não sei onde começo e acabo, se sou o que sou ou se deixo de ser o que pareço.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Escrevo o que me vem à cabeça, sem censura, sem passar por aquilo que ofusca a minha liberdade. Estou a tentar construir um puzzle inacabado. As memórias da infância que julgara perdidas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Sandra Bastos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-4984867909107197214?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/4984867909107197214/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=4984867909107197214' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4984867909107197214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4984867909107197214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/11/um-puzzle-inacabado.html' title='Um puzzle inacabado'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-4506891058925722686</id><published>2007-11-06T20:20:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-06T20:23:12.946Z</updated><title type='text'>Ausência</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"&gt;Tanto tempo afastada deste blog... Vai-se o tempo da inspiração. Esvazia-se a mente para a encher de novo, como se fosse a primeira vez... O regresso está para breve. É apenas um pressentimento, não uma promessa, muito menos uma certeza.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-4506891058925722686?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/4506891058925722686/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=4506891058925722686' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4506891058925722686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4506891058925722686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/11/ausncia.html' title='Ausência'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-2847787471368319707</id><published>2007-10-22T22:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T22:42:51.056+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The wedding date videos</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/umq1Vcn5GfU"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/umq1Vcn5GfU" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uSy_r3agaXk"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uSy_r3agaXk" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-2847787471368319707?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/2847787471368319707/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=2847787471368319707' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2847787471368319707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2847787471368319707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/10/wedding-date-videos.html' title='The wedding date videos'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-6357882188584666493</id><published>2007-10-04T17:39:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T17:39:54.664+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Partilha</title><content type='html'>Esta é uma mensagem que me enviou uma pessoa amiga… Achei-a tão bonita que decidi partilhá-la convosco. Espero que gostem!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Não é quanto fazemos que é importante mas quanto amor pomos no fazer.&lt;br /&gt;E não é quanto damos que é importante mas quanto amor pomos no dar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem julga as pessoas não tem tempo para as amar.&lt;br /&gt;E a falta de amor é a maior de todas as pobrezas."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Madre Teresa de Calcutá)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-6357882188584666493?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/6357882188584666493/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=6357882188584666493' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/6357882188584666493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/6357882188584666493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/10/partilha.html' title='Partilha'/><author><name>Esperança Martins</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00598006898282954305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-6241307044049503503</id><published>2007-09-21T18:48:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-21T18:52:27.639+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Conhecimento</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Só sabemos com exactidão quando sabemos pouco; à medida que vamos adquirindo conhecimentos, instala-se a dúvida."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Goethe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-6241307044049503503?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/6241307044049503503/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=6241307044049503503' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/6241307044049503503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/6241307044049503503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/09/conhecimento.html' title='Conhecimento'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-685392724139253726</id><published>2007-09-21T18:44:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-21T18:47:08.883+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Escrever é não falar</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Escrever é também não falar. É calar-se. É gritar sem ruído."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marguerite Duras, escritora&lt;br /&gt;1914-1996&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-685392724139253726?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/685392724139253726/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=685392724139253726' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/685392724139253726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/685392724139253726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/09/escrever-no-falar.html' title='Escrever é não falar'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-1713686398795347534</id><published>2007-09-04T17:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T17:44:22.066+01:00</updated><title type='text'>PARABÉNS À CRIADORA DESTE BLOG</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amiga, parabéns por mais um anito!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Happy Birthday - Joyeux Anniversaire - Felice Anniversario - Feliz Cumpleaños - Herzlichen Glückwunsch - Zum Geburtstag - Een Gelukkige Verjaardag -  Wel Gefeliciteerd&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:180%;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:180%;color:#9999ff;"&gt;Muitas felicidades!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:180%;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#000000;"&gt;Esperança&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-1713686398795347534?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/1713686398795347534/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=1713686398795347534' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1713686398795347534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1713686398795347534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/09/parabns-criadora-deste-blog.html' title='PARABÉNS À CRIADORA DESTE BLOG'/><author><name>Esperança Martins</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00598006898282954305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-8708484040147241789</id><published>2007-08-15T11:01:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-15T11:13:21.257+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Jane Austen e Mulherzinhas</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/O8cklbIztu8"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/O8cklbIztu8" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-8708484040147241789?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/8708484040147241789/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=8708484040147241789' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8708484040147241789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8708484040147241789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/08/jane-austen-e-mulherzinhas.html' title='Jane Austen e Mulherzinhas'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-1302631081550370955</id><published>2007-08-15T10:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-15T11:33:05.311+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Mulher</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"É pelo trabalho que a mulher vem diminuindo a distância que a separava do homem, somente o trabalho poderá garantir-lhe uma independência concreta."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Simone de Beauvoir&lt;br /&gt;Escritora/Feminista&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-1302631081550370955?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/1302631081550370955/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=1302631081550370955' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1302631081550370955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1302631081550370955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/08/mulher.html' title='Mulher'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-4723689250530774378</id><published>2007-08-15T10:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-15T10:52:36.230+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Como Água para Chocolate</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hY4lDCaSiJ4"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hY4lDCaSiJ4" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-4723689250530774378?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/4723689250530774378/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=4723689250530774378' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4723689250530774378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4723689250530774378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/08/como-gua-para-chocolate.html' title='Como Água para Chocolate'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-2091049799261742435</id><published>2007-08-10T11:53:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T11:57:58.304+01:00</updated><title type='text'>100º Aniversário do nascimento de Miguel Torga</title><content type='html'>RTP 2 assinala 100º aniversário do nascimento de Miguel Torga&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Documentário de Luís Costa passa este domingo, 12, às 21h15&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ao longo de 50 minutos, o documentário MIGUEL TORGA – O MEU PORTUGAL (com o qual a RTP2 assinala o centenário do nascimento do escritor, no exacto dia que corresponderia ao seu 100º aniversário) conduz-nos numa viagem pelo país e pela identidade portuguesa que se percepcionam em múltiplos textos de Torga, sobretudo em prosa, e que evidenciam, tantos anos volvidos, uma acutilante e surpreendente actualidade. O próprio Miguel Torga é o narrador exclusivo deste documentário, uma vez que o guião foi integralmente estruturado com base nos seus textos, sobretudo da relativamente desconhecida produção em prosa que integra a colectânea PORTUGAL, cuja primeira edição data de 1950.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cf. &lt;a href="http://www.cienciahoje.pt/index.php?oid=22954&amp;op=all"&gt;http://www.cienciahoje.pt/index.php?oid=22954&amp;amp;op=all&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-2091049799261742435?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/2091049799261742435/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=2091049799261742435' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2091049799261742435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2091049799261742435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/08/100-aniversrio-do-nascimento-de-miguel.html' title='100º Aniversário do nascimento de Miguel Torga'/><author><name>Esperança Martins</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00598006898282954305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-2557342119008014166</id><published>2007-08-06T19:29:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T19:35:17.186+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Cristão</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"E não julgues mal o Anselmo. Ele é um cristão, coisa muito rara nos países católicos."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ernest Hemingway, em "Por Quem os Sinos Dobram"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-2557342119008014166?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/2557342119008014166/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=2557342119008014166' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2557342119008014166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2557342119008014166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/08/cristo.html' title='Cristão'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-4777165779054076821</id><published>2007-08-06T19:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T19:26:58.814+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sou feia de nascença</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;" -&lt;em&gt;Vamos&lt;/em&gt;, não sou feia! Sou feia de nascença. Toda a vida fui feia. Tu, &lt;em&gt;Inglés&lt;/em&gt;, que não sabes nada das mulheres, sabes o que sente uma mulher feia? Podes imaginar o que é ser feia toda a vida e sentir-se bela lá por dentro? É muito divertido."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ernest Hemingway, em "Por Quem os Sinos Dobram"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-4777165779054076821?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/4777165779054076821/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=4777165779054076821' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4777165779054076821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4777165779054076821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/08/sou-feia-de-nascena.html' title='Sou feia de nascença'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-5252017565500043009</id><published>2007-08-06T19:17:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T19:27:25.521+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A gente tem de falar com alguém</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;" -A gente tem de falar com alguém. Antes havia a religião e outras porcarias. Agora devia haver uma pessoa em que pudéssemos confiar e com quem falar francamente; porque por maior que seja a nossa coragem, a solidão dói."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ernest Hemingway, em "Por Quem os Sinos Dobram"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-5252017565500043009?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/5252017565500043009/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=5252017565500043009' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5252017565500043009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5252017565500043009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/08/gente-tem-de-falar-com-algum.html' title='A gente tem de falar com alguém'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-3817943952093998673</id><published>2007-07-31T11:01:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T11:20:30.342+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Matar</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"- Tu já mataste alguém?- inquiriu Jordan animado pela intimidade que a escuridão favorecia e por um dia passado em comum.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- Sim, muitas vezes. Mas nunca me senti satisfeito. Para mim matar um homem é pecado. Mesmo quando são fascistas que é preciso matar. Eu, por mim, acho grandes diferenças entre um homem e um urso e não acrediro nessa bruxaria dos ciganos a respeito da fraternidade com animais. Não. Eu sou contrário à matança de homens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- E, no entanto, mataste.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- Sim. E voltarei a matar. Mas se escapar com vida hei-de fazer o possível por viver de modo a não fazer mal a ninguém, a fim de ser perdoado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- Por quem?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- Quem é que sabe? Desde que não há Deus, nem Filho, nem Espírito Santo, quem pode perdoar? Eu não sei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- Então já não tens Deus?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- Não, homem. É certo que não. Se houvesse Deus ele nunca permitiria que visse o que tenho visto com estes que a terra há-de comer. Podemos deixar-lhe o Deus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- Eles reclamam-no.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- É claro que Ele me faz falta, pois fui educado com religião. Mas agora um homem tem de ser responsável por si.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- Nesse caso és tu que tens de perdoar-te pelas mortes feitas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- Creio que sim - concordou Anselmo. - Já que pões a questão nesse ponto, parece-me que deve ser assim. Mas, com ou sem Deus, estou convencido de que matar é pecado. Para mim tirar a a vida de outra pessoa é coisa de muita gravidade."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ernest Hemingway, em "Por Quem os Sinos Dobram"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-3817943952093998673?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/3817943952093998673/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=3817943952093998673' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3817943952093998673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3817943952093998673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/07/matar.html' title='Matar'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-7098381195119187449</id><published>2007-07-31T10:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T11:00:16.721+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Todos os bons e firmes são alegres</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Todos os bons e firmes são alegres, reflectiu Jordan. É muito melhor ser alegre que é sinal de uma coisa: de uma imortalidade terrestre. Que coisa complicada! E já quase não há alegres. A maior parte dos lutadores joviais desapareceu. Restam pouquíssimos. E se continuas a pensar assim, meu rapaz, também estás pronto. Muda de disco, meu caro, velho andarilho, velho camarada. Agora és apenas um instrumento de destruir pontos. Não um pensador."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ernest Hemingway, em "Por Quem os Sinos Dobram"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-7098381195119187449?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/7098381195119187449/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=7098381195119187449' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7098381195119187449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7098381195119187449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/07/todos-os-bons-e-firmes-so-alegres.html' title='Todos os bons e firmes são alegres'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-7824252546164766248</id><published>2007-07-31T10:48:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T10:50:14.504+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Tristeza</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Mas não gosto daquele seu ar triste. Má coisa, essa tristeza. E a tristeza que aparece quando os homens estão prestes a desertar ou a trair. É a tristeza do começo do fim".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ernest Hemingway, em "Por Quem os Sinos Dobram"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-7824252546164766248?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/7824252546164766248/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=7824252546164766248' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7824252546164766248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7824252546164766248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/07/tristeza.html' title='Tristeza'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-1824986964743343625</id><published>2007-07-31T10:37:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T10:50:31.557+01:00</updated><title type='text'>És um bruto?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"- És um bruto? Sim. És uma besta? Sim, muitas vezes. Tens miolos? Nenhuns. Agora que viemos tratar de algo realmente importante, é que tu com o amor à lareira pões o teu buraco de raposa acima dos interesses do povo. Vamos. E isto e aquilo e naqueloutro do teu pai. E isto e aquilo no teu. &lt;em&gt;Pega já nesse saco.&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ernest Hemingway, em "Por Quem os Sinos Dobram"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-1824986964743343625?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/1824986964743343625/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=1824986964743343625' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1824986964743343625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1824986964743343625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/07/s-um-bruto.html' title='És um bruto?'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-5403299100993126732</id><published>2007-07-23T19:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T19:40:30.038+01:00</updated><title type='text'>As Intermitências da Morte - José Saramago</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;«"Todos os meus livros partem de uma situação improvável ou impossível, sem excepções. Descobri isso há bem pouco tempo, há uns dois anos", afirmou o escritor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Se algum talento tenho, é transformar o improvável e o impossível em algo provável e possível. Quero que gostem desse livro por duas razões porque ele merece e porque eu mereço", disse Saramago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O romance mostra como a agitação e alegria provocadas num país imaginário pela reforma da Morte se convertem logo a seguir num motivo de preocupação, pelo impacto político, económico, social e até religioso da nova situação.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O escritor português avançou que seu novo romance é "extremamente divertido" e que fala sobre a morte "e, portanto, é um livro sobre a vida".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A ausência de mortes de um dia para o outro, sonho milenar da Humanidade, como explicou José Saramago, converte-se repentinamente numa dor de cabeça para governantes e cidadãos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Como o tempo não pararia, as pessoas envelheceriam e ficariam numa situação de velhice eterna", afirmou o escritor no lançamento da sua obra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Com uma população envelhecida, o governo desse país imaginário não sabe como resolver o problema da Segurança Social, as pessoas deixam de saber o que fazer com uma existência imortal e até a fé cristã fica em xeque, pois sem morte não há ressurreição nem vida eterna, comentou José Saramago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O escritor revelou que teve a ideia de escrever esta obra ao ler um livro que relatava a morte de um pessoa e começou a pensar no que aconteceria se os homens não morressem. "O ser humano alimentou sempre a esperança de conseguir a imortalidade, mas sem a Morte a Vida seria um caos", comentou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Quando nasci, a esperança de vida na minha aldeia era de 35 anos e dentro de três semanas faço 83 anos, por isso já me sinto um bocado a entrar na eternidade", gracejou.»&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CAETANO BARREIRA/epa in JN &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-5403299100993126732?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/5403299100993126732/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=5403299100993126732' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5403299100993126732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5403299100993126732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/07/as-intermitmcias-da-morte-jos-saramago.html' title='As Intermitências da Morte - José Saramago'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-5895436353568053847</id><published>2007-07-19T12:12:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-19T12:12:50.963+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Mika</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uzA0nG_PurQ"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uzA0nG_PurQ" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-5895436353568053847?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/5895436353568053847/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=5895436353568053847' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5895436353568053847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5895436353568053847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/07/mika.html' title='Mika'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-4388269828242006154</id><published>2007-07-09T14:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-09T14:58:32.599+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Visitem Praga</title><content type='html'>Conhecida como "cidade das cem cúpulas", Praga é um dos mais belos e antigos centros urbanos da Europa, famoso pelo património arquitetónico e rica vida cultural.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O curso sinuoso do rio através da cidade, cheia de belas e antigas pontes, contrasta com a presença imponente do grande &lt;a title="Castelo de Praga" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Castelo_de_Praga"&gt;Castelo de Praga&lt;/a&gt; em &lt;a class="new" title="Hradcany" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Hradcany&amp;amp;action=edit"&gt;Hradcany&lt;/a&gt;, que domina a capital na margem esquerda (oriental) do Vltava.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Podia fazer aqui uma enumeração infindável dos monumentos a visitar... mas para isso existem os guias (recomendo o guia da American Express). Não deixem de visitar a Ponte Carlos, a Zona do Castelo, a Praça Venceslau, O Museu Nacional, o Teatro Nacional, a Câmara da Cidade Antiga, Relógio Astronómico, etc..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não perder ainda os espectáculos musiciais e teatrais a acontecer a toda a hora em muitos pontos da cidade...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Visitem, não se fiquem pelas descrições dos outros.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A cidade é um encanto bastante acessível aos nossos bolsos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esperança&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-4388269828242006154?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/4388269828242006154/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=4388269828242006154' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4388269828242006154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4388269828242006154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/07/visitem-praga.html' title='Visitem Praga'/><author><name>Esperança Martins</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00598006898282954305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-4006327069754481131</id><published>2007-06-28T19:08:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T19:20:48.161+01:00</updated><title type='text'>O que eu sinto</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"O que eu sinto é isto: &lt;em&gt;«Neste momento estou a viver a vida que quero, à porta de um restaurante sem nome. Tenho uma dólar na mão para gastar, e vou jantar.»&lt;/em&gt; Vamos experimentar tudo o que vem no menu. Depois vamos dar umas voltas por Brooklyn e vamos atravessar a ponte com o panorama de Manhattan espraiado diante de nós, que me parece uma novidade sempre que o vejo. Depois vamos mergulhar na cidade. Vamos arranjar lugar para o carro a poucos quarteirões do meu apartamento na Rua Dez,e vamos comprar leite e o jornal de amanhã. Vamos tirar a roupa e deitar-nos na cama."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Melissa Bank, em "Ao Sabor do Momento"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-4006327069754481131?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/4006327069754481131/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=4006327069754481131' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4006327069754481131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4006327069754481131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/o-que-eu-sinto.html' title='O que eu sinto'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-6096205296439022884</id><published>2007-06-28T18:43:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T19:03:29.397+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A porta</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"O que eu faria era o oposto do amor, e todavia não era ao amor que eu queria virar as costas, mas sim aos murmúrios que diziam que eu não podia perder aquela oportunidade. O problema era que aquela oportunidade não me parecia uma porta que se abria, parecia ums porta prestes a fechar-se. Eu começara a julgar o Neil para afirmar que eu é que decidia se queria abrir a porta ou não, para afirmar que eu é que escolhia a porta que queria abrir, e que existiriam mais portas que por sua vez abririam outras porta. Entretanto, eu transformara o Neil numa portas."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Melissa Bank, em "Ao Sabor do Momento"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-6096205296439022884?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/6096205296439022884/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=6096205296439022884' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/6096205296439022884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/6096205296439022884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/porta.html' title='A porta'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-8019958876288548641</id><published>2007-06-28T18:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T18:41:47.060+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Dena</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Penso em todos os motivos por que considero injusto a Dena pedir-me para não me envolver com o Matthew. Penso também em todos os motivos por que me recusei a prometer-lhe isso, e concluo que esses motivos nada têm a ver com a nossa amizade, mas sim com a forma como agora eu vejo a Dena.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Não sinto pena dela porque ela escolheu passar fim-de-semana atrás de fim-de-semana, Verão após Verão, com um homem que a faz pensar nos seus defeitos, um homem que não a deseja e nunca a desejará; e porque, entretanto, também escolheu envolver-se com um homem casado. Digo a mim própria que eu nunca faria essas escolhas."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Melissa Bank, em "Ao Sabor do Momento"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-8019958876288548641?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/8019958876288548641/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=8019958876288548641' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8019958876288548641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8019958876288548641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/dena.html' title='Dena'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-7854822099134477115</id><published>2007-06-28T16:14:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T16:16:24.025+01:00</updated><title type='text'>"here's to love"</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/C_56vGREzDA"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/C_56vGREzDA" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-7854822099134477115?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/7854822099134477115/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=7854822099134477115' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7854822099134477115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7854822099134477115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/heres-to-love.html' title='&quot;here&apos;s to love&quot;'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-8719215625542169469</id><published>2007-06-28T12:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T12:53:02.982+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Superficialidade</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Quando ela se deita e pega no seu livro sobre o Robert Moses e Nova Iorque, apercebo-me de que não sei nada sobre a história de Nova Iorque nem sobre a história dos Estados Unidos nem sobre a história de nada, nem moderna nem antiga; não tenho noções de geografia e nem sequer sei o que é a física. Tudo isto contribui para a minha superficialidade."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Melissa Bank, em "Ao Sabor do Momento"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-8719215625542169469?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/8719215625542169469/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=8719215625542169469' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8719215625542169469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8719215625542169469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/superficialidade.html' title='Superficialidade'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-1728870376843301936</id><published>2007-06-28T12:44:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T12:48:27.303+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Falta de talento</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Quando o&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Matthew e a Dena vão nadar no lago, pergunto-me porque é que nunca aprendi a nadar, ou a patinar, ou a cantar, ou a tocar piano. Sou preguiçosa; não tenho disciplina; não tenho paciência. Não consigo lembrar-me de ter desenvolvido uma única aptidão e também não me lembro de ter nenhum talento. Mal tenho emprego, quanto mais uma carreira."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Melissa Bank, em "Ao Sabor do Momento"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-1728870376843301936?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/1728870376843301936/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=1728870376843301936' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1728870376843301936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1728870376843301936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/falta-de-talento.html' title='Falta de talento'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-5347953416751980518</id><published>2007-06-28T12:40:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T12:43:47.746+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Todas as manhãs...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Todas as manhãs fico surpreendida por o auto-rádio ainda estar no carro. Mas reparo que até os carros bons e novos estão estacionados na rua, e não vejo os sinais que costumava ver nos vidros dos carros: NÃO TEM AUTO-RÁDIO; NÃO HÁ NADA NA MALA NEM NO PORTA-LUVAS; JÁ ROUBARAM TUDO."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Melissa Bank, em "Ao Sabor do Momento"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-5347953416751980518?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/5347953416751980518/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=5347953416751980518' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5347953416751980518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5347953416751980518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/todas-as-manhs.html' title='Todas as manhãs...'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-5144770944820229788</id><published>2007-06-28T12:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T12:39:31.764+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Fi-lo para me sentir em paz</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Mas não foi Deus, nem a religião, nem o meu pai que me levaram a tirar a pulseira. Não o fiz por medo de ser apanhada, nem porque não me queria meter em sarilhos; fi-lo para me sentir em paz comigo."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Melissa Bank, em "Ao Sabor do Momento"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-5144770944820229788?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/5144770944820229788/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=5144770944820229788' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5144770944820229788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5144770944820229788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/fi-lo-para-me-sentir-em-paz.html' title='Fi-lo para me sentir em paz'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-2642530132605525718</id><published>2007-06-19T15:09:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T10:51:37.418+01:00</updated><title type='text'>"Omenagem à hortografia"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;"A senhora menistra da Educação açegurou ao presidente da República que, em futuras provas de aferissão do 4.º e do 6.º anos de iscolaridade, os critérios vão ser difrentes dos que estão em vigor atualmente. Ou seja os erros hortográficos já vão contar para a avaliassão que esses testes pretendem efetuar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vale a pena eisplicar o suçedido, depois de o responçável pelo gabinete de avaliassões do Menistério da Educação ter cido tão mal comprendido e, em alguns cazos, injustissado. Quando se trata de dar opiniões sobre educassão, todos estamos com vontade de meter o bedelho. Pelo menos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como se sabe, as chamadas provas de aferissão não são izames propriamente ditos limitão-se a aferir, a avaliar - sem o rigôr de uma prova onde a nota conta para paçar ou para xumbar ao final desses ciclos de aprendizagem. Servem para que o menistério da Educação recolha dados sobre a qualidade do encino e das iscólas, sobre o trabalho dos profeçores e sobre as competênssias e deficiênçias dos alunos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando se soube que, na primeira parte da prova de Português, não eram levados em conta os erros hortográficos dados pelos alunos, logo houve algumas vozes excandalisadas que julgaram estar em curso mais uma das expriências de mudernização do encino, em que o Menistério tem cido tão prodigo. Não era o caso porque tudo isto vem desde 2001. Como foi eisplicado, havia patamares no primeiro deles, intereçava ver se os alunos comprendiam e interpetavam corretamente um teisto que lhes era fornessido. Portantos, na correção dessa parte da prova, não eram tidos em conta os erros hortográficos, os sinais gráficos e quaisqueres outros erros de português excrito. Valorisando a competenssia interpetativa na primeira parte, entendiasse que uma ipotetica competenssia hortográfica seria depois avaliada, quando fosse pedido ao aluno que escrevê-se uma compozição. Aí sim, os erros hortográficos seriam, digamos, contabilisados - embora, como se sabe, os alunos não sejam penalisados: á horas pra tudo, quer o Menistério dizer; nos primeiros cinco minutos, trata-se de interpetar; nos quinze minutos finais, trata-se da hortografia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Á, naturalmente, um prublema, que é o de comprender um teisto através de uma leitura com erros hortográficos. Nós julgáva-mos, na nossa inoçência, que escrever mal era pensar mal, interpetar mal, eisplicar mal. Abreviando e simplificando, a avaliassão entende que um aluno pode dar erros hortográficos desde que tenha perssebido o essencial do teisto que comenta (mesmo que o teisto fornessido não com tenha erros hortográficos). Numa fase posterior, pedesse-lhe "Então, criançinha, agora escreve aí um teisto sem erros hortográficos." E, emendando a mão, como já pedesse-lhe para não dar erros, a criancinha não dá erros. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A questão é saber se as pessoas (os cidadões, os eleitores, os profeçores, "a comonidade educativa") querem que os alunos saião da iscóla a produzir abundãnssia de erros hortográficos, ou seja, se os erros hortográficos não téêm importânssia nenhuma - ou se tem. Não entendo como os alunos podem amostrar "que comprenderam" um teisto, eisplicando-o sem interesar a cantidade de erros hortográficos. Em primeiro lugar porque um erro hortográfico é um erro hortográfico, e não deve de haver desculpas. Em segundo lugar, porque obrigar um profeçor a deixar passar em branco os erros hortográficos é uma injustiça e um pressedente grave, além de uma desautorizassão do trabalho que fizeram nas aulas. Depois, porque se o gabinete de avaliassão do Menistério quer saber comovão os alunos em matéria de competenssias, que trate de as avaliar com os instromentos que tem há mão sem desautorisar ou humilhar os profeçores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peçoalmente, comprendo a intensão. Sei que as provas de aferissão não contam para nota e hádem, mais tarde, ser modificadas. Paço a paço, a hortografia háde melhorar."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Francisco José Viegas escreve no JN, semanalmente, às segundas-feirasIn: JN; 04.06.2007&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-2642530132605525718?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/2642530132605525718/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=2642530132605525718' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2642530132605525718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2642530132605525718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/omenagem-hortografia.html' title='&quot;Omenagem à hortografia&quot;'/><author><name>Esperança Martins</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00598006898282954305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-244954874646607586</id><published>2007-06-16T17:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-16T17:47:15.790+01:00</updated><title type='text'>"Deh vieni non tardar" (Le Nozze di Figaro)</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/R3NItbi7PDY"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/R3NItbi7PDY" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-244954874646607586?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/244954874646607586/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=244954874646607586' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/244954874646607586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/244954874646607586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/deh-vieni-non-tardar-le-nozze-di-figaro.html' title='&quot;Deh vieni non tardar&quot; (Le Nozze di Figaro)'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-1828394193975553161</id><published>2007-06-13T19:38:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T19:41:13.054+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Deus</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Não cria num Deus que analisasse todas as orações, atendendo a umas e rejeitando outras, por mais decente ou mais indigno que fosse o requerente. Preferia, pelo contrário, crer num Deus que concedesse dons e capacidades a todas as pessoas, para depois as colocar num mundo imperfeito, onde seriam postas à prova e onde a sua fé teria sentido".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Nicholas Sparks, em "À Primeira Vista"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-1828394193975553161?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/1828394193975553161/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=1828394193975553161' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1828394193975553161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1828394193975553161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/deus.html' title='Deus'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-8161971161616462142</id><published>2007-06-13T19:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T19:37:44.044+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A terra é pequena</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"-A terra é pequena. É o que fazemos por estas bandas. Sentamo-nos num círculo e falamos das outras pessoas. Ficamos a saber como correm as suas vidas, trocamos impressões, avaliamos se os outros estão certos ou errados e, se pudermos, resolvemos os problemas deles na privacidade da nossa própria casa. Na verdade, ninguém admite tal coisa, mas todos fazemos o mesmo. No fundo, é quase um modo de vida."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Nicholas Sparks, em "À Primeira Vista"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-8161971161616462142?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/8161971161616462142/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=8161971161616462142' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8161971161616462142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8161971161616462142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/terra-pequena.html' title='A terra é pequena'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-263926701863979141</id><published>2007-06-13T19:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T19:21:29.555+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Os homens</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; "Doris encolheu os ombros. - Conheço os homens. Podem fazer uma birra dos diabos, sentirem-se frustrados ou preocupados com o trabalho ou com a vida, mas, no final, se souberes o que os faz correr é uma necessidade quase desesperada de se sentirem apreciados e admirados. Se os fizeres sentir assim, nem sabes o que são capazes de fazer por ti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Lexie limitava-se a olhar para a avó. Ao prosseguir, Doris mostrava um sorriso melífluo.  - Desejam, como é óbvio, fantásticas relações sexuais e esperam que as mulheres mantenham a casa limpa e arrumada, sem deixarem de parecer bonitas e de arranjarem energia suficiente para se divertirem juntos, mas a admiração e o apreço estão sempre presentes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Nicholas Sparks, em "À Primeira Vista"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-263926701863979141?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/263926701863979141/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=263926701863979141' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/263926701863979141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/263926701863979141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/os-homens.html' title='Os homens'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-2306241533892836188</id><published>2007-06-13T18:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T19:02:20.046+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Não conseguia estar parado</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Não conseguia estar parado mais do que uns poucos  minutos de cada vez; havia sempre algo para ler ou para estudar, a necessidade de escrever era constante. Apercebia-se de que, pouco a pouco, tinha perdido a capacidade de descontrair, de que tinha resultado um longo período da sua vida em que os meses se dissolviam numa massa, sem que nada diferenciasse um ano do outro."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Nicholas Sparks, em "À Primeira Vista"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-2306241533892836188?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/2306241533892836188/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=2306241533892836188' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2306241533892836188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2306241533892836188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/no-conseguia-estar-parado.html' title='Não conseguia estar parado'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-1621588454458665797</id><published>2007-06-13T18:48:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T19:02:46.373+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Namoro e Casamento</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Simples, como vês - explicava Alvin. - Primeiro conheces uma rapariga simpática e namoras durante algum tempo, o suficiente para ambos se convencerem de que aceitam os mesmos valores, para ver se ambos são compatíveis e estão prontos para tomar a grande decisão: «a vida é nossa e queremos vivê-la juntos». Para decidir, por exemplo, qual das famílias irão visitar nas férias, se querem viver numa vivenda ou num apartamento, se preferem um cão ou um gato, quem, pela manhã, toma duche em primeiro lugar, quando ainda há água quente em abundância. Depois disto, se ainda estiverem basicamente de acordo, casam-se."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Nicholas Sparks, em "À Primeira Vista"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-1621588454458665797?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/1621588454458665797/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=1621588454458665797' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1621588454458665797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1621588454458665797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/namora-e-casamento.html' title='Namoro e Casamento'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-8842117782202364454</id><published>2007-06-09T18:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-09T19:05:52.618+01:00</updated><title type='text'>O Velho e o Mar</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;«É tolice não ter esperança, pensou. Além de que suponho que é pecado. Não penses no pecado. Já sem ele há problemas de sobra. E do pecado não tenho entendimento».&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;«Não tenho dele entendimento, e até me parece que não acredito nele. Talve fosse pecado matar o peixe. Julgo que terá sido, embora o tenha morto para viver e dar de comer a muita gente. Mas então tudo é pecado. Não penses no pecado. É tarde demais para isso, e há gente paga para pensar nele. Eles que pensem. Tu nasceste para pescador, como os peixes para serem pescados. S. Pedro era pescador, como o pai do grande DiMaggio».&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ernest Hemingway, em "O Velho e o Mar"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-8842117782202364454?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/8842117782202364454/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=8842117782202364454' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8842117782202364454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8842117782202364454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/o-velho-e-o-mar.html' title='O Velho e o Mar'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-9080365918452042756</id><published>2007-06-09T18:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-09T18:59:01.498+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Tenho as ideias claras</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;«Tenho as ideias claras, pensou. Claras demais. Tão claras como as estrelas que são minhas irmãs. Mas preciso de dormir. Elas dormem, e a lua e o sol dormem, até o oceano dorme às vezes, em certos dias, quando não há corrente e a calma é estanhada».&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ernest Hemingway, em "O Velho e o Mar"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-9080365918452042756?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/9080365918452042756/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=9080365918452042756' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/9080365918452042756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/9080365918452042756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/tenho-as-ideas-claras.html' title='Tenho as ideias claras'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-2332285729382870358</id><published>2007-06-04T17:05:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T17:14:20.230+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Os Poemas da Minha Vida</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;“Enquanto outros trazem cruzes e medalhas ao pescoço, eu trago sempre um poema no bolso”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;                                                                                                                                       Miguel Veiga&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Poemas de infância, de amor e de confidências já maduras. A série Os Poemas da Minha Vida volta a ser editada pelo PÚBLICO, agora numa versão mais alargada. Além de Mário Soares, Miguel Veiga, Freitas do Amaral e Urbano Tavares Rodrigues, outras personalidades conhecidas foram convidadas a partilhar os versos que mais os marcaram. É esse o caso de Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa, Vasco Graça Moura, António Lobo Xavier ou Maria Barroso. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;            Não perca:      &lt;a href="http://www.publico.clix.pt/coleccoes/poemasDaMinhaVida/default.asp"&gt;http://www.publico.clix.pt/coleccoes/poemasDaMinhaVida/default.asp&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Boas Leituras&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-2332285729382870358?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/2332285729382870358/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=2332285729382870358' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2332285729382870358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2332285729382870358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/os-poemas-da-minha-vida.html' title='Os Poemas da Minha Vida'/><author><name>Esperança Martins</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00598006898282954305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-3943688068004959629</id><published>2007-06-01T11:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T11:14:26.128+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Gabriel's Oboe</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PRb8KKyenSY"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PRb8KKyenSY" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-3943688068004959629?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/3943688068004959629/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=3943688068004959629' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3943688068004959629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/3943688068004959629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/06/gabriels-oboe.html' title='Gabriel&apos;s Oboe'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-6156841290353877360</id><published>2007-05-31T08:48:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-31T08:49:57.957+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A poesia</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;«A poesia é mais verdadeira do que a história»&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Aristóteles&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/9070552-6156841290353877360?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/6156841290353877360/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=6156841290353877360' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/6156841290353877360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/6156841290353877360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/05/poesia.html' title='A poesia'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-7788848673601906756</id><published>2007-05-25T13:16:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T13:24:48.314+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Mistério</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"É um mistério muito grande. Para vocês que também gostam do principezinho, tal como para mim, nada no universo é igual se nalgum lado, não se sabe onde, uma ovelha que não conhecemos, comeu ou não comeu uma rosa...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Olhem o céu. Perguntem a vocês mesmos: A ovelha comeu ou não comeu a flor? E verão como tudo se altera...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;E nenhuma pessoa crescida compreenderá nunca como isso pode ter tanta importância!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, em “O Principezinho”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-7788848673601906756?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/7788848673601906756/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=7788848673601906756' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7788848673601906756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7788848673601906756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/05/mistrio.html' title='Mistério'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-8419226915644460385</id><published>2007-05-25T12:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T12:46:51.240+01:00</updated><title type='text'>As estrelas</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"-E quando estiveres consolado (acabamos sempre por consolar-nos) ficarás contente por me teres conhecido. Serás meu amigo para sempre. Terás vontade de rir comigo. E às vezes abrirás a janela sem qualquer razão, só por prazer... E os teus amigos ficarão bem espantados por te ver rir olhando o céu. Então dir-lhe-ás: «As estrelas fazem-me sempre rir!» E eles julgarão que estás louco. Ter-te-ei pregado uma bela partida..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, em “O Principezinho”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-8419226915644460385?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/8419226915644460385/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=8419226915644460385' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8419226915644460385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8419226915644460385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/05/as-estrelas.html' title='As estrelas'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-5269931363703237500</id><published>2007-05-25T12:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T12:32:29.518+01:00</updated><title type='text'>O Segredo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; "Eis o meu segredo. É muito simples: só se pode ver com o coração. O essencial é invisível aos olhos."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, em “O Principezinho”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-5269931363703237500?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/5269931363703237500/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=5269931363703237500' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5269931363703237500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/5269931363703237500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/05/o-segredo.html' title='O Segredo'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-2402391551022621127</id><published>2007-05-25T12:08:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T12:26:30.959+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Cativar</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"-Não, disse o principezinho, procuro amigos. O que é que significa «cativar»?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-É uma coisa muito esquecida, disse a raposa. Significa «criar laços...»&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-Criar laços?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-Isso mesmo, disse a raposa. Para mim não passas ainda de um rapazinho muito parecido com cem mil rapazinhos. E não preciso de ti. E tu também não precisas de mim. Para ti sou apenas uma raposa semelhante a cem mil raposas. Mas, se me cativares, teremos necessidade um do outro. Para mim serás único no mundo. E eu serei para ti única no mundo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;(...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;-Só se conhecem as coisas que se cativam, disse a raposa. Os homens já não têm tempo para conhecer o que quer que seja. Compram coisas feitas nos comerciantes. Mas como não existem comerciantes de amigos, os homens já não têm amigos. Se queres ter um amigo, cativa-me!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, em “O Principezinho”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-2402391551022621127?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/2402391551022621127/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=2402391551022621127' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2402391551022621127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/2402391551022621127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/05/cativar.html' title='Cativar'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-8602576637436093443</id><published>2007-05-25T11:52:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T11:59:08.501+01:00</updated><title type='text'>O geógrafo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"O geógrafo é demasiado importante para poder passear. Nunca deixa o seu escritório. Mas recebe os exploradores. Interroga-os e toma nota das suas recordações. E se as recordações de um deles lhe parecem interessantes, o geógrafo manda fazer um inquérito sobre a moralidade do explorador."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, em “O Principezinho”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-8602576637436093443?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/8602576637436093443/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=8602576637436093443' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8602576637436093443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/8602576637436093443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/05/o-gegrafo.html' title='O geógrafo'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-1037999520311023915</id><published>2007-05-25T11:14:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T13:25:49.908+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Um verdadeiro sábio</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"-Julgar-te-ás então a ti próprio, respondeu-lhe o rei. É o mais difícil. É muito mais difícil alguém julgar-se a si próprio do que julgar outra pessoa. Se conseguires julgar-te a ti próprio bem, é porque és um verdadeiro sábio.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-Eu, disse o principezinho, posso julgar-me a mim próprio em qualquer sítio. Não preciso de viver aqui."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, em “O Principezinho”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-1037999520311023915?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/1037999520311023915/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=1037999520311023915' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1037999520311023915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/1037999520311023915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/05/um-verdadeiro-sbio.html' title='Um verdadeiro sábio'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-4267270142910423145</id><published>2007-05-24T09:35:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-24T09:35:42.563+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Mais Oboé...</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_LtyutZ1AH0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_LtyutZ1AH0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-4267270142910423145?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/4267270142910423145/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=4267270142910423145' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4267270142910423145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/4267270142910423145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/05/mais-obo.html' title='Mais Oboé...'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9070552.post-7423386503972881315</id><published>2007-05-23T18:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-23T18:54:39.306+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Alegria do Presente</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Ama muito,&lt;br /&gt;Sofre pouco,&lt;br /&gt;Luta bastante&lt;br /&gt;E VENCE SEMPRE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sem medo e sem preconceitos do que os outros poderão pensar,&lt;br /&gt;A vida são dois dias e apenas um sorriso entre duas lágrimas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aproveita e nunca deixes que a tristeza do teu passado&lt;br /&gt;e o medo do futuro estraguem a alegria do presente!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Autor desconhecido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9070552-7423386503972881315?l=sanhas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/feeds/7423386503972881315/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9070552&amp;postID=7423386503972881315' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7423386503972881315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9070552/posts/default/7423386503972881315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanhas.blogspot.com/2007/05/alegria-do-presente.html' title='Alegria do Presente'/><author><name>Sandra Bastos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15717036552518196288</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
