tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-208744232024-03-14T05:25:42.970+01:00El jardí del tarongerSi al costat de la biblioteca hi tens un jardí, ja no et faltarà res. CiceróUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger277125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-2267661728863356912018-08-29T18:02:00.002+02:002018-08-29T18:02:56.020+02:00I descobrim bruscament que el present és la única eternitat possible.<br />
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Dançant al bord de l'abisme. Grégoire Delacourt<br />
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<img src="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DlT1b6qW0AAub2L.jpg" />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-79965562114129062412018-06-08T17:59:00.001+02:002018-06-08T17:59:28.924+02:00<br />
Mai seré diferent. Estima'm.<br />
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W. H. Auden<br />
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<img src="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DenZ4SlXUAIX7Ve.jpg" />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-1716558990123412422018-05-21T20:28:00.001+02:002018-05-21T20:28:18.201+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yrBMQ3MhHCY/WwMPtGz3UII/AAAAAAAAA34/_15g_OKGeIkHSOOezrb_BkVjfvgN397fQCLcBGAs/s1600/Mirror.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yrBMQ3MhHCY/WwMPtGz3UII/AAAAAAAAA34/_15g_OKGeIkHSOOezrb_BkVjfvgN397fQCLcBGAs/s320/Mirror.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: justify;">En els jardins de la memòria, en el palau dels somnis. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px;">Allà és on tu i jo ens tornarem a veure.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px;">Alicia a través del Mirall. Lewis Carrol</span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-38744086398735586332018-05-01T18:21:00.002+02:002018-05-01T18:21:33.154+02:00<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Com s’assembla aquesta primavera d’amor amb la incerta glòria d’un dia d’abril. Tant aviat mostra tota la bellesa del sol radiant com s’enterboleix el cel per uns núvols que s’emporten tota la llum.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Els dos gentilhomes de Verona. William Shakespeare</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-13815273622991500502017-07-24T20:38:00.001+02:002017-07-24T20:38:04.363+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RwYzYgwbvl4/WXY-gWBELPI/AAAAAAAAA2k/01H_GQjrExAGXtezgBFUQ5bZnbmmAWTqQCLcBGAs/s1600/DCYG7ZzXsAEF65_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1065" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RwYzYgwbvl4/WXY-gWBELPI/AAAAAAAAA2k/01H_GQjrExAGXtezgBFUQ5bZnbmmAWTqQCLcBGAs/s320/DCYG7ZzXsAEF65_.jpg" width="284" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 15.456px;">Fugen les veus. Als vells amagatalls</span><br style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 15.456px;" /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 15.456px;">s'enfila el temps pel forat de l'agulla.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 15.456px;">Zoraida Burgos (del poemari Blau)</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-24694397437457099142017-07-21T18:24:00.001+02:002017-07-21T18:24:51.137+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_gNaAlK_NKw/WXIqwqyLRnI/AAAAAAAAA2Q/fMLJ9xbt8VIt56npGq7Yj3pV8eDOfMTFQCLcBGAs/s1600/DEQSxsWXcAEiajG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="319" data-original-width="480" height="212" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_gNaAlK_NKw/WXIqwqyLRnI/AAAAAAAAA2Q/fMLJ9xbt8VIt56npGq7Yj3pV8eDOfMTFQCLcBGAs/s320/DEQSxsWXcAEiajG.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I de sobte sóc aquí a punt de refer el (meu) món.</strong></span></h3>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Parafrassejant Nicole Brossard)</span></strong></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-41133782649183672792017-07-11T20:25:00.001+02:002017-07-11T20:25:53.797+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mHSZHfnkeL0/WWUYJjf_waI/AAAAAAAAA2A/MG-7OAwz0a8PVzFsH6XklhErFSKaYvlTACLcBGAs/s1600/868d2cc61319b2b8f117b7421577447a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mHSZHfnkeL0/WWUYJjf_waI/AAAAAAAAA2A/MG-7OAwz0a8PVzFsH6XklhErFSKaYvlTACLcBGAs/s320/868d2cc61319b2b8f117b7421577447a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.456px;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.456px;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.456px;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Tancar després els ulls </span></span></span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.456px;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.456px;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">i el full sense saber </span></span></span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.456px;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.456px;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">si és certa o no la vida que hem viscut. </span></span></span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.456px;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.456px;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span></span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.456px;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.456px;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Quima Jaume (De </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Del temps i dels somnis, 1993</span><span style="font-size: x-small;">) </span></span></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-7267830926403852622017-06-24T17:06:00.004+02:002017-06-24T17:06:38.892+02:00<br />
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Quan ets avall de tot només pots anar cap amunt.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Foto: Fan Ho</span><br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8FQOLXiCZ5g/WU5_8hv9XAI/AAAAAAAAA1w/g6uMsLdUyswxWr_rPcxwwK_OoCWz5-2owCLcBGAs/s1600/DCdPKuRXoAIzQf_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="893" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8FQOLXiCZ5g/WU5_8hv9XAI/AAAAAAAAA1w/g6uMsLdUyswxWr_rPcxwwK_OoCWz5-2owCLcBGAs/s320/DCdPKuRXoAIzQf_.jpg" width="229" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-33175018040919564982017-06-17T13:44:00.001+02:002017-06-17T13:44:31.546+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DVnZ4DH45d8/WUUV_ZMB5HI/AAAAAAAAA1g/Wi5838ULM_Il58Pu5efjVdNqb1F4CBLwACLcBGAs/s1600/DB9UhEfW0AAp0qC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="624" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DVnZ4DH45d8/WUUV_ZMB5HI/AAAAAAAAA1g/Wi5838ULM_Il58Pu5efjVdNqb1F4CBLwACLcBGAs/s320/DB9UhEfW0AAp0qC.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Soho Gothic W01 Regular", serif; font-size: 16px;">M'adono que és impossible entrar en la solitud d'un altre. Si és veritat que podem arribar a conèixer un altre ésser humà, encara que només sigui una mica, ho és només en la mesura que ell vulgui que el coneguin. Un home pot dir: tinc fred. O bé pot no dir res i el veurem tremolar. En tots dos casos, sabrem que té fred. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Soho Gothic W01 Regular", serif; font-size: 16px;">Però, i l'home que no diu res i no tremola?</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Soho Gothic W01 Regular", serif; font-size: 16px;">Paul Auster</span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cFWWqPOY6EU/WTbP95q7mnI/AAAAAAAAA08/G3qcm2bnHjo3ZO75u2G3Bph1AquNUyYaQCLcB/s1600/maleta-chema-madoz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cFWWqPOY6EU/WTbP95q7mnI/AAAAAAAAA08/G3qcm2bnHjo3ZO75u2G3Bph1AquNUyYaQCLcB/s320/maleta-chema-madoz.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sempre he cregut que cap vida hauria de pesar més de 32 quilos.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Santiago Roncagliolo</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Foto: Maleta. Chema Madoz</span><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-75291607786612271022017-05-30T17:09:00.000+02:002017-05-30T20:48:52.888+02:00<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "times" , serif; font-size: 20px;"><br /></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "times" , serif; font-size: 20px;">Són certes les paraules que vam dir-nos,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "times" , serif; font-size: 20px;">certa la primavera del teu cos</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "times" , serif; font-size: 20px;">i cert l'espill d'amor dels teus ulls negres.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: "times" , serif; font-size: 20px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , serif; font-size: 20px;">Suau plovia sobre el bosc tendríssim</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "times" , serif; font-size: 20px;">de pins i diminutes margarides.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "times" , serif; font-size: 20px;">Sols el silenci, sols nosaltres sols.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: "times" , serif; font-size: 20px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 20px;">D'aquí a molts anys potser recordaràs</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-size: 20px;">que algú, algun dia, et va estimar moltíssim.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-size: 20px;">I et pujarà a la gola una dolçor</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-size: 20px;">com una immensa mel, com una música.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-size: 20px;">La mateixa dolçor que ara jo sento</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-size: 20px;">recordant-te en la meva soledat.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 20px;">Res no val tant com un instant d'amor.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 20px;">Maig d'amor. Gerard Vergés</span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0mbuHKGflzg/WSXKnYL9snI/AAAAAAAAA0o/63jtXXFOBB0JfnObdsogGmqYRVbW8lm_gCLcB/s1600/Tatuatjes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="236" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0mbuHKGflzg/WSXKnYL9snI/AAAAAAAAA0o/63jtXXFOBB0JfnObdsogGmqYRVbW8lm_gCLcB/s1600/Tatuatjes.jpg" /></a></div>
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Ciertas cosas te quedan como un tatuaje en el cuerpo. Yo tengo algunos versos tatuados en la memoria.<br />
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Julio CortázarUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-92138950608394250702014-11-18T12:20:00.001+01:002014-11-18T12:20:21.327+01:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lGqIxDUY_9c/VGsrbLndOJI/AAAAAAAAAzA/8yuTJ8nE76w/s1600/1533855_10152452876158531_1225264289715801427_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lGqIxDUY_9c/VGsrbLndOJI/AAAAAAAAAzA/8yuTJ8nE76w/s1600/1533855_10152452876158531_1225264289715801427_n.jpg" height="320" width="318" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-5668919293336753332014-08-13T10:59:00.001+02:002014-08-13T10:59:25.000+02:00
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<span lang="CA"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">N’hi ha que estem condemnats a viure en una
capsa d’on només ens podem escapar temporalment. Nosaltres, els que tenim l’esperit
bloquejat i els pensaments confinats, els que tenim l’ànsia d’esclatar, d’inundar-ho
tot amb un torrent de ràbia, joia o fins i tot bogeria, però no tenim enlloc on
anar, cap lloc al món, perquè ningú no ens voldrà tal com som i no podem fer
res més que lliurar-nos al plaer secret de les nostres sublimacions, l’arc d’una
frase, el petó d’una rima, la imatge que es forma al llenç o al paper, la
cantata interior, el brodat ocult, el punt de creu fos i somiador sorgit de l’infern,
el cel o el purgatori, o de cap d’aquests tres llocs, però de nosaltres n’ha de
sorgir una mica de soroll i de fúria, quatre platerets que ressonin en el buit.
Qui ens ho podria negar, si és la mera pantomima d’un frenesí? A nosaltres, els
actors que passegem amunt i avall per un escenari que ningú mira, amb l’entranya
remoguda i els punys abrandats? [...] Per què? Per què no? Per què? Per què
no?.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="CA"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<em>Un estiu sense homes</em>. Siri HustvedtUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-69403916242416587762014-08-05T12:35:00.000+02:002014-08-05T12:35:06.156+02:00<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #000066;">I</span></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #000066;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nyj_xat8pys/U-Cy-U42ETI/AAAAAAAAAys/rYYpAfgAEvU/s1600/modest+urgell+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nyj_xat8pys/U-Cy-U42ETI/AAAAAAAAAys/rYYpAfgAEvU/s1600/modest+urgell+2.jpg" height="175" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">IV. Vous ne saurez jamais...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Vous ne saurez jamais que votre âme voyage<br />Comme au fond de mon coeur un doux coeur adopté;<br />Et que rien, ni le temps, d'autres amours, ni lâge,<br />N'empêcheront jamais que vous ayez été.<br /><br />Que la beauté du monde a pris votre visage,<br />Vit de votre douceur, luit de votre clarté,<br />Et que ce lac pensif au fond du paysage<br />Me redit seulement votre sérénité.<br /><br />Vous ne saurez jamais que j'emporte votre âme<br />Comme une lampe d'or qui m'éclaire en marchant;<br />Qu'un peu de votre voix a passé dans mon chant.<br /><br />Doux flambeau, vos rayons, doux brasier, votre flamme,<br />M'instruisent des sentiers que vous avez suivis,<br />Et vous vivez un peu puisque je vous survis.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #000066;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Marguerite Yourcenar<span style="color: black;">.</span><span style="color: black;"> Sept poèmes pour une morte</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: xx-small;">El quadre és de Modest Urgell</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-17854041227043794532014-05-15T17:14:00.000+02:002014-05-15T17:14:07.203+02:00
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<span lang="CA" style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BppLtpAZAo8/U3TZgz_GdwI/AAAAAAAAAyY/KQwdr04cfYk/s1600/cerilla.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BppLtpAZAo8/U3TZgz_GdwI/AAAAAAAAAyY/KQwdr04cfYk/s1600/cerilla.jpg" height="316" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="CA" style="color: #333333;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri;">El que
fa la literatura és equiparable al que fa un pobre llumí enmig del camp en
meitat de la nit.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="CA" style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: black;">Un
llumí no il·lumina gairebé res però ens permet veure quanta foscor hi ha al seu
voltant.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="CA" style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">William
Faulkner<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">La foto és de Chema Madoz</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-48916733161794395792014-01-20T10:38:00.002+01:002014-01-20T10:38:41.142+01:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PuX1zxiuIUY/Utzuc4WzKzI/AAAAAAAAAyI/nseU3D44gzs/s1600/imagesWHKRSESD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PuX1zxiuIUY/Utzuc4WzKzI/AAAAAAAAAyI/nseU3D44gzs/s1600/imagesWHKRSESD.jpg" /></a></div>
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Escoge un amante que te mire como si quizás fueras magia.</div>
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Frida Kahlo</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">La imatge és de Eugenia López</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-87500562211518242402014-01-10T10:58:00.003+01:002014-01-10T10:58:38.942+01:00La maternitat, molts cops, pot ser com unes sabates que et van molt grans.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F-1XH5zHnho/Us_EQc2m5TI/AAAAAAAAAx4/rb3pKLRKKbQ/s1600/1517565_10152114827264886_2109329129_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F-1XH5zHnho/Us_EQc2m5TI/AAAAAAAAAx4/rb3pKLRKKbQ/s1600/1517565_10152114827264886_2109329129_n.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-77005222150647470042013-10-28T17:29:00.001+01:002013-10-28T17:29:40.789+01:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HecWSBLokxk/Um6Q6hrIX5I/AAAAAAAAAxY/1xEMmML-2is/s1600/Invisibleheart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HecWSBLokxk/Um6Q6hrIX5I/AAAAAAAAAxY/1xEMmML-2is/s320/Invisibleheart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">La belleza absoluta,<br /> La que contiene toda la grandeza y la miseria del mundo<br /> Y que sólo es visible para quienes aman.<br /><br /></span><em>Los Perros Románticos</em> (fragment). Roberto Bolaño<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-28892488001954122952013-09-30T12:57:00.003+02:002013-09-30T12:57:38.305+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RsA1RKZ1Z0I/UklZHHUnv-I/AAAAAAAAAxA/5q-DSap7nS0/s1600/1375279_215913218575419_502379852_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RsA1RKZ1Z0I/UklZHHUnv-I/AAAAAAAAAxA/5q-DSap7nS0/s320/1375279_215913218575419_502379852_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Law, say the gardeners, is the sun,<br />Law is the one<br />All gardeners obey<br />To-morrow, yesterday, to-day.<br /><br />Law is the wisdom of the old,<br />The impotent grandfathers feebly scold; <br />The grandchildren put out a treble tongue,<br />Law is the senses of the young.<br /><br />Law, says the priest with a priestly look,<br />Expounding to an unpriestly people,<br />Law is the words in my priestly book,<br />Law is my pulpit and my steeple.<br /><br />Law, says the judge as he looks down his nose,<br />Speaking clearly and most severely,<br />Law is as I've told you before,<br />Law is as you know I suppose,<br />Law is but let me explain it once more,<br />Law is The Law.<br /><br />Yet law-abiding scholars write:<br />Law is neither wrong nor right,<br />Law is only crimes<br />Punished by places and by times,<br />Law is the clothes men wear<br />Anytime, anywhere,<br />Law is Good morning and Good night.<br /><br />Others say, Law is our Fate; <br />Others say, Law is our State; <br />Others say, others say<br />Law is no more,<br />Law has gone away.<br /><br />And always the loud angry crowd,<br />Very angry and very loud,<br />Law is We,<br />And always the soft idiot softly Me.<br /><br />If we, dear, know we know no more<br />Than they about the Law,<br />If I no more than you<br />Know what we should and should not do<br />Except that all agree<br />Gladly or miserably<br />That the Law is<br />And that all know this<br />If therefore thinking it absurd<br />To identify Law with some other word,<br />Unlike so many men<br />I cannot say Law is again,<br /><br />No more than they can we suppress<br />The universal wish to guess<br />Or slip out of our own position<br />Into an unconcerned condition.<br />Although I can at least confine<br />Your vanity and mine<br />To stating timidly<br />A timid similarity,<br />We shall boast anyway:<br />Like love I say.<br /><br />Like love we don't know where or why,<br />Like love we can't compel or fly,<br />Like love we often weep,<br />Like love we seldom keep. <br /><!-- .KonaBody --> <br />
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<em>Law like love</em>. WH Auden</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-42325567879881957662013-09-05T15:30:00.000+02:002013-09-05T15:30:00.604+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YVC7aaUgMMc/UiiHUYWSdcI/AAAAAAAAAww/Ki2eBucX4AQ/s1600/Hands.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="174" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YVC7aaUgMMc/UiiHUYWSdcI/AAAAAAAAAww/Ki2eBucX4AQ/s320/Hands.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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On és? penso, sense adonar-me que el porto posat. És com amb les ulleres de llegir.<br />
Les busques, imprescindibles, i de sobte t'adones que les portes penjant. <br />
Això és, exactament. Un record tan present que, si t'hi fixes bé, s'assembla molt a un oblit.<br />
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<em>Un home de paraula</em>. Imma MonsóUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-8995621402472969232013-08-06T11:33:00.003+02:002013-08-06T11:33:42.994+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QvUAquGqmw0/UgDC7TGnoNI/AAAAAAAAAwg/rzzfj4F7lmw/s1600/imagesCA0A85KC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QvUAquGqmw0/UgDC7TGnoNI/AAAAAAAAAwg/rzzfj4F7lmw/s1600/imagesCA0A85KC.jpg" /></a></div>
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L'amor consisteix en que dues soledats es defensin mutuament, es delimitin i es rendeixin homenatje.<br />
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<em>Cartes a un jove poeta</em>. Rainer Maria Rilke<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-17480905636192625162013-07-04T10:20:00.001+02:002013-08-01T18:11:21.997+02:00 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-chaeJVilAt8/UdUwLeSkzkI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/56ff2RLuXWs/s274/flor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-chaeJVilAt8/UdUwLeSkzkI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/56ff2RLuXWs/s274/flor.jpg" /></a></div>
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I sí que pot ser possible, sí que pot ser probable, estimar altra vegada amb aquell amor despullat de vides passades, amb l'ànima sencera, sense esquerdes, i que sigui senzill. </div>
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<i>Creixen malgrat tot les tulipes. </i>Sònia Moll</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-43460064151858698802013-06-28T11:40:00.001+02:002013-06-28T11:40:08.093+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eBZh3K7rzAE/Uc1Z7fefyzI/AAAAAAAAAwA/n09wRI117rc/s251/pollet.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eBZh3K7rzAE/Uc1Z7fefyzI/AAAAAAAAAwA/n09wRI117rc/s251/pollet.png" /></a></div>
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Le habría gustado venir al mundo en cualquier época, una y otra vez, y, a poder ser, cada vez para siempre.<br />
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<em>El suplicio de las moscas</em>. Elías CanettiUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20874423.post-29863413290274419462013-06-13T10:12:00.001+02:002013-06-13T10:12:30.580+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xyu5dgQzxMg/Ubl-y4BYXaI/AAAAAAAAAvs/PLzdIjZiUSU/s1600/970974_616881214988631_1792528206_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xyu5dgQzxMg/Ubl-y4BYXaI/AAAAAAAAAvs/PLzdIjZiUSU/s320/970974_616881214988631_1792528206_n.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
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El amor no es sino la acuciante necesidad de sentirse con otro, de pensarse con otro, de dejar de padecer la insoportable soledad del que se sabe vivo y condenado. Y así, buscamos en el otro no quien el otro es, sino una simple excusa para imaginar que hemos encontrado un alma gemela, un corazón capaz de palpitar en el silencio enloquecedor que media entre los latidos del nuestro, mientras corremos por la vida o la vida corre por nosotros hasta acabarnos. <br />
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<em>Bella y oscura</em>. Rosa MonteroUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0