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#filosophy
cachorrodivagador · 27 days
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Meu sonho de vida é poder mandar todo mundo que enche meu saco ir se fuder sem tomar um tiro, nem é um grande sonho porque será que é tão difícil?!
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frasesnahir · 1 month
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te quiero, pero necesitamos poner fin a esto pues a pesar del amor nos hacemos daño mutuo por no dejar y superar el pasado ese que nos permite avanzar
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huellas-poeticas · 7 months
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pinkr4ys · 10 months
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they keep watching us, should we fear?
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"I have learned that I cannot demand love from anyone. I can only give good reasons to be loved... And have patience so that life does the rest."
William Shakespeare
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senhoreu · 8 days
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A frustração advinda após a realização do vício descontrói o sujeito. Quando deixa-se ceder, a frustração prepara seu rito: a ira sobre si é convidada familiar; a ansiedade se achega, o vizinho angústia visita-nos, o ceticismo é servido e, para concluir a etiqueta dos infernos despertados pelo vício, a anulação do sujeito se realiza.
Fonte: Heronides Câmara, Reconstrução. XV.III.MMXXIV.
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tle13 · 8 months
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pensamientosyletra · 10 days
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Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony
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vanitaslevitas · 7 months
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I don't know what to write about. I know I want to write, but the content escapes from my hands the same way the captured sea runs through my fingers and falls on the sand. So, I try. I grab the paper and pen, trying to replicate the poets of great ones from another time. Or open my laptop, trying to gain inspiration from all the writers without name, like me. And, nothing. Once again, the Muses laugh at me and my pigheaded way of doing things. And they laughter only gets louder, in the same measurement that my despair increases. So, I sit, and since inspiration has evaded me, write about not being able to write. And by the time I come back to me, thousands of words, dozens of lines, and an piece that I don't remember doing. And now Fate laughs, and the Muses silent remain, cause in the end I show them. Show that I don't need their divine inspiration. Show them that, if they don't want to enlighten me to new epic texts, like the writers of old, I shall write about something that they never wrote. I shall write about an men, that neither lived or died for love. That go up every morning, went through his day like normal and went home, to sleep and begin anew the next day. The most normal and, fictionally boring, piece of literature there is. I shall write about the ordinary, common men, that every story ignores. The men that the white knight, or the dark villain never remember about. About how he lived his day, where he went and what he saw. And about that time, that he got home after work and tried to write his day. And here it is, the piece that the Muses didn't want me to have. The piece about the struggle of the working normal man to write. And I'm tired. Its been an long night, sitting in the reception of this building, and I just hope to get home, cause, for today, I already tried to write about my day
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endlesslybabe · 23 days
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cachorrodivagador · 4 months
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Você só sabe quem você é de verdade quando você perde tudo, quando só sobra você, nada mais importa além de você.
— Jean (Cachorro Divagador)
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frasesnahir · 1 month
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siempre dijo no creer en el amor, pero sin embargo sueño con encontrar al amor de mi vida y que acepte a mi raspado corazón
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Even in the absence of a particular stimulus, I carry a constant inner anxiety that makes me see and look for dangers where in reality there are none. It infinitely amplifies even the slightest adversity and makes relationships with human beings all the more difficult for me.
-Arthur Schopenhauer "The art of knowing yourself"
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cosmonautroger · 10 months
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Diotima
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I did not come to rescue you from the gloom or to paint ephemeral paradises.
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