Qualities of narcissism site:.com
Se você não for melhor amanhã do que você foi hoje, então qual a sua serventia para amanhã?
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I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity.
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I love you. I am who I am because of you. You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I’ve ever had, and no matter what happens to us in the future, everyday we are together is the greatest day of my life. I will always be yours.
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"I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best."
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XVII
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love, a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
Than this: where “I” does not exist, nor “you”,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
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And I learned what is obvious to a child. That life is simply a collection of little lives, each lived one day at a time. That each day should be spent finding beauty in flowers and poetry and talking to animals. That a day spent with dreaming and sunsets and refreshing breezes cannot be bettered. But most of all, I learned that life is about sitting on benches next to ancient creeks with my hand on her knee and sometimes, on good days, for falling in love.
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I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there’s a pair of us — don’t tell!
They’d banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
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Our life is made by the death of others
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“The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.”
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Mistakes are, after all, the foundation of truth. If a man does not know what something is, it is an advance in knowledge to know what it is not.
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A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal.
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Hodor! Hodor! Hodor!
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ELA ERROU,EU ERREI,NÓS DOIS ERRAMOS… (POESIA ALEATÓRIA)
Ela errou,eu errei,
Nós dois erramos.
O que havia entre nós
Foi acabando.
Nada restou,é esta a realidade
Hoje existe apenas a amizade.
Eu falhei,ela falhou,
Nós dois falhamos.
No dia a dia
Fomos nos distanciando.
Uma relação sem contato e sem carinho,
Ela ausente e eu sozinho.
Ela cansou,eu cansei,
Nós dois cansamos.
A magia,aos poucos,
Foi dissipando.
Nada em comum,nem mesmo cumplicidade.
Viver de aparências é a realidade.
Eu me isolei,
Ela se afastou.
Me acomodei,
Ela se acomodou.
Nada restou ,entre nós dois,
Solidão a dois,é isso o que ficou.
Eu errei,ela errou,
Nós dois erramos!!!
Culpado maior,
Não existe,nós falhamos.
Ela errou,tudo bem,eu perdoei,
Condenação maior,
Veio quando eu errei!!!
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Quem nunca deixou o carro morrer na hora que o farol fica verde, não sabe o que é ser pressionado.
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O trabalho te faz amadurecer, os estudos te fazem crescer e as mulheres… Ah, as mulheres te fazem esquecer tudo isso aí!
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I’m not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of us will never be perfect. But if I can make you laugh at least once, cause you to think twice, and if I admit being human and making mistakes, hold onto me and give me the most you can. I’m not going to quote poetry, I’m not thinking about you every moment, but I will give you a part of me that I know you could break, my heart. Don’t hurt me, don’t mock me, and don’t expect for more than I can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when I make you happy, yell when I make you mad, and miss me when I’m not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you.
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The happiness of man is: I will. The happiness of woman is: he wills.
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I am nothing special; of this I am sure. I am a common man with common thoughts, and I’ve led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.
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People come, people go – they’ll drift in and out of your life, almost like characters in a favorite book. When you finally close the cover, the characters have told their story and you start up again with another book, complete with new characters and adventures. Then you find yourself focusing on the new ones, not the ones from the past.
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One machine can do the work of a hundred ordinary men, but no machine can do the work of extraordinary man.
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