<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' version='2.0'><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Tue, 22 Dec 2009 06:14:50 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>ArtEscrita</title><description>A escrita para além da sua utilidade prática</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>183</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-215138581388302457</guid><pubDate>Wed, 12 Aug 2009 10:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-12T12:15:42.672+02:00</atom:updated><title>Um fim anunciado...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FTnEIMEK6Hw/SoKWLXmeoDI/AAAAAAAAAWw/buGG1rPaqR0/s1600-h/end.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 313px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FTnEIMEK6Hw/SoKWLXmeoDI/AAAAAAAAAWw/buGG1rPaqR0/s320/end.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369018827837186098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tudo tem um fim. E este é o fim de um blog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Existe a urgente necessidade de me re-inventar.&lt;br /&gt;Re-inventar em cada momento, em cada sentimento.&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/29010361-215138581388302457?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/08/um-fim-anunciado.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FTnEIMEK6Hw/SoKWLXmeoDI/AAAAAAAAAWw/buGG1rPaqR0/s72-c/end.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-6398020376195413787</guid><pubDate>Sun, 09 Aug 2009 17:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-09T19:46:29.905+02:00</atom:updated><title>Sentimentos</title><description>&lt;h2&gt;Paixão:&lt;/h2&gt;Uma emoção de emoção quase patológica do amor. O acometido de paixão perde a sua individualidade em função do fascínio que o outro exerce sobre ele. É tipicamente um sentimento doloroso e patológico, porque, em norma, o indivíduo perde a sua individualidade, a sua identidade e o seu poder de raciocínio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Prefiro, contudo, não negar essa paixão ( de amor ) ...&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/29010361-6398020376195413787?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/08/sentimentos_09.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-4305925004011934770</guid><pubDate>Sat, 08 Aug 2009 18:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-08T20:02:53.298+02:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>A chuva no Verão lembra-nos a outra estação da vida que podemos viver.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29010361-4305925004011934770?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/08/este-post-foi-o-ultimo.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-2942042739155396710</guid><pubDate>Wed, 05 Aug 2009 13:18:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-05T15:21:28.333+02:00</atom:updated><title>Valor Humano Fundamental</title><description>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sinceridade &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do latim &lt;i&gt;sincerĭtas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;/i&gt;Qualidade ou condição daquilo ou daquele que é sincero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Diz-se daquilo ou daquele em que não há engano, hipocrisia ou fingimento; probidade na intenção ou no falar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sinceridade é a revelação ao Mundo do interior de nós próprios. Não apenas do que fazemos mas também do que sentimos e, com base neste sentimento, as relações sociais são mais, ou menos, duradouras.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O valor humano fundamental deveria ser a sinceridade e não qualquer valor individual que se outorga diferentemente em cada um de nós.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29010361-2942042739155396710?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/08/valor-humano-fundamental.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-2611520495199430311</guid><pubDate>Wed, 05 Aug 2009 11:21:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-05T13:22:20.034+02:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Os dias da Tese</category><title>Cliché !</title><description>"É quando estou a acabar isto que eu estava pronto para o começar"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Para a próxima não se esqueçam de me lembrar disto no príncipio.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29010361-2611520495199430311?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/08/cliche.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-7555579609371929893</guid><pubDate>Tue, 04 Aug 2009 18:15:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-04T20:18:55.141+02:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Os dias da Tese</category><title>Clichés Tésicos</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FTnEIMEK6Hw/Snh7XXuQwvI/AAAAAAAAAWo/X8mScuqERoM/s1600-h/caminho-de-pincel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FTnEIMEK6Hw/Snh7XXuQwvI/AAAAAAAAAWo/X8mScuqERoM/s320/caminho-de-pincel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366174597447205618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O caminho faz-se caminhando&lt;/span&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/29010361-7555579609371929893?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/08/o-caminho-faz-se-caminhando.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FTnEIMEK6Hw/Snh7XXuQwvI/AAAAAAAAAWo/X8mScuqERoM/s72-c/caminho-de-pincel.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-4650041565461487275</guid><pubDate>Mon, 03 Aug 2009 09:20:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-03T11:21:37.475+02:00</atom:updated><title>O caminho evidencia-se...</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Todas as mágoas são suportáveis quando fazemos delas uma história ou contamos uma história a seu respeito."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;Isak Dinesen&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/29010361-4650041565461487275?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/08/o-caminho-evidencia-se.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-9125307683803476436</guid><pubDate>Sun, 02 Aug 2009 22:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-03T00:35:07.722+02:00</atom:updated><title>Sentimentos</title><description>Alguém disse que "as maiores fontes de prazer provêem de momentos inesperados", estaria ele certo ?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29010361-9125307683803476436?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/08/sentimentos_03.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-7438473671349027211</guid><pubDate>Sun, 02 Aug 2009 20:46:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-02T22:49:33.860+02:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FTnEIMEK6Hw/SnX7RjgIVCI/AAAAAAAAAWg/r_7Kf_t0wbU/s1600-h/The+Dying+Gaul.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 115px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FTnEIMEK6Hw/SnX7RjgIVCI/AAAAAAAAAWg/r_7Kf_t0wbU/s200/The+Dying+Gaul.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365470810088166434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nem tese, nem mais nada !&lt;br /&gt;Que importa, afinal, viver ?&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/29010361-7438473671349027211?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/08/nem-tese-nem-mais-nada-que-importa.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FTnEIMEK6Hw/SnX7RjgIVCI/AAAAAAAAAWg/r_7Kf_t0wbU/s72-c/The+Dying+Gaul.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-563254355151983541</guid><pubDate>Sun, 02 Aug 2009 19:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-02T21:08:29.493+02:00</atom:updated><title>Um pouco ou tanto ...</title><description>Felicidade: aprendi a ser feliz enquanto sonho com a realidade que não tenho !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Precisava apenas de receber um gesto simpático, e eu era feliz .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29010361-563254355151983541?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/08/um-pouco-ou-tanto.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-1852888799588325331</guid><pubDate>Sun, 02 Aug 2009 14:21:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-04T15:50:42.475+02:00</atom:updated><title>Trabalho em Part-Time</title><description>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Comecei a partir pedra com a cabeça. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29010361-1852888799588325331?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/08/trabalho-em-part-time.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-5761041300445822375</guid><pubDate>Sat, 01 Aug 2009 23:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-02T01:05:34.716+02:00</atom:updated><title>Sentimentos</title><description>Quantos de nós não têm aquilo que não querias por mais que o tivessem construído outrora?&lt;br /&gt;Toma o homem outra personalidade quando perde o que ama, quando não tem quem deseja, quando, de súbito, os momentos de sonho se realizam sem que ele faça parte dele, quando, de repente, se vê excluído e sem saber, luta pelo que sente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toma o homem outra presença quando vê nascer algo de novo e o seu corpo estremece, treme, não por espanto, mas antes por não ter "dado à luz" esse pequeno momento.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que momentos virão ? De que forma o serão ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando uma lágrima apenas anseia por um abraço, quando um momento se quer ter para sempre presente e não queremos sair dele.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29010361-5761041300445822375?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/08/sentimentos.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-1123753218687553467</guid><pubDate>Wed, 29 Jul 2009 08:57:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-29T10:58:26.199+02:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;A terminologia é o momento poético do pensamento.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/29010361-1123753218687553467?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/07/terminologia-e-o-momento-poetico-do.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-7644616648633967196</guid><pubDate>Mon, 27 Jul 2009 22:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-28T00:36:48.913+02:00</atom:updated><title>Fazes-me falta...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://aredenarede.com/web/images/stories/eu-queria-ser-amor-geisa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 750px; height: 533px;" src="http://aredenarede.com/web/images/stories/eu-queria-ser-amor-geisa.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sinto a tua ausência &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&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/29010361-7644616648633967196?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/07/fazes-me-falta.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-8072516692331259325</guid><pubDate>Sun, 26 Jul 2009 16:43:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-26T18:46:01.574+02:00</atom:updated><title>Life goes on !</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th07.deviantart.net/fs40/300W/i/2009/004/3/a/____rain_rain_rain____by_utopic_man.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://th07.deviantart.net/fs40/300W/i/2009/004/3/a/____rain_rain_rain____by_utopic_man.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;"I'll live my life not desperately looking for utopic happiness but for a deeply lived experience and that will mean what it will mean"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29010361-8072516692331259325?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/07/life-goes-on.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-5132456965060833553</guid><pubDate>Mon, 06 Jul 2009 00:31:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-06T02:39:28.098+02:00</atom:updated><title>Sem saber !</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.uma.pt/blogs/box-m/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/depressao.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 430px; height: 323px;" src="http://www.uma.pt/blogs/box-m/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/depressao.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dois jovens, sem sono, conversam numa noite de Verão:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Eu acho que vou ao psicólogo. - Disse um deles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- "O quê?" - Replicou de imediato o outro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Preciso de saber se ando a deprimir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Mas isso sabe-se? - Exprimiu na pergunta o seu espanto o jovem que ouvia o seu amigo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Não sei - concluiu o outro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Ah, pensei que se sentisse - O outro jovem conclui mais aliviado, mas sem saber o que pensar...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29010361-5132456965060833553?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/07/sem-saber.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-2206387065980406536</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Jun 2009 00:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-10T02:33:56.140+02:00</atom:updated><title>Anúncios Publicitários</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Precisa-se&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Vontade de dormir, aprox. 6 horas por dia, disponível da meia-noite às 06h, todos os dias da semana. Urgente. Boa condição de trabalho em colchão ortopédico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vende-se&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Preguiça. em óptimo estado. 100 % conservada, vendida como nova apesar do seu uso. 100.000 km com revisão feita este ano. Pronta a utilizar.&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/29010361-2206387065980406536?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/06/anuncios-publicitarios.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-4193397996231405895</guid><pubDate>Mon, 08 Jun 2009 08:29:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-08T10:30:26.431+02:00</atom:updated><title>Disciplina</title><description>Hoje o dia é cinzento mas o sol, sem se deixar vislumbrar, brilha por entre estes tons cinzentos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje é dia de trabalho, de disciplina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em suma : Um dia em que a banalidade ganha toda a significância .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29010361-4193397996231405895?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/06/disciplina.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-6649760859785488882</guid><pubDate>Sun, 07 Jun 2009 20:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-07T22:45:55.089+02:00</atom:updated><title>Tradições ...</title><description>Já não me lembrava de afiar um lápis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Perdi o meu  lápis de minas preto 2 mm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; P*#$% pah !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29010361-6649760859785488882?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/06/tradicoes.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-3524953581270710802</guid><pubDate>Sun, 07 Jun 2009 20:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-07T22:31:35.411+02:00</atom:updated><title>Hapiness !</title><description>Today I will be happy with two things : Give me a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;book&lt;/span&gt; to read and a bottle of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;whisky&lt;/span&gt; !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29010361-3524953581270710802?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/06/hapiness.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-4845857350139544656</guid><pubDate>Sun, 07 Jun 2009 00:06:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-07T02:08:13.966+02:00</atom:updated><title>Estados de Estar ( Ou de Ser )</title><description>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Existe uma alegria celestial que desce à terra para lembrar ao Homem o que de frágil.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Para lembrar o que de tão frágil é !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Celebremos essa alegria.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29010361-4845857350139544656?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/06/estados-de-estar-ou-de-ser.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-8624934364801146262</guid><pubDate>Fri, 05 Jun 2009 20:11:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-05T22:12:54.052+02:00</atom:updated><title>Estados de Ser ( Ou de Estar )</title><description>Crio tudo menos esta solidão que agora tenho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ambiciono tudo mas não quero este nada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero tudo menos esta solidão que agora tenho.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29010361-8624934364801146262?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/06/estados-de-ser-ou-de-estar.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-3101379071137938967</guid><pubDate>Thu, 04 Jun 2009 18:27:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-04T20:34:08.207+02:00</atom:updated><title>Viver (de)mais...</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hoje acordei cedo, o sol tinha então entrelaçado o horizonte.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Uma manhã estranha, algo cinzenta, camuflada por tons neutros.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Uma pomba levantava voo à minha frente para logo de seguida planar e pousar de novo. Parecia querer dizer-me algo. A pomba não era branca, não tinha o sentido metafórico de uma clareza celestial. Era branca mas malhada por um castanho terra que ainda agora recordo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Aquela pomba guiou-me um pouco mais para, de súbito, pousar num muro onde já não a podia perturbar. Ela parecia olhar para mim enquanto caminhava só, ela parecia olhar-me de cima como se ela fosse um  ser altivo e divino. Olhei-a nos olhos: pobre criatura, eu, apenas com vontade de vencer, de triunfar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hoje o dia foi de facto diferente. Caminhei sozinho e aquela pomba apenas me queria dizer que esta solidão é a nova companhia para o futuro que se avizinha. Este é o teu caminho, devo segui-lo. Esta é a tua companhia, que pareço querer ter. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;O cenário pareceu também ele ter vontade. Pareceu quer que o recorda-se como um momento eterno que, afinal, não foi mais que um mero momento quotidiano, citadino.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hoje alguém me mostrou a realidade que queria pensar que não tinha ainda... &lt;/span&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/29010361-3101379071137938967?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/06/viver-demais.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-5367534503313871353</guid><pubDate>Wed, 27 May 2009 23:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-28T01:45:08.884+02:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CuaacrVXQgs&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CuaacrVXQgs&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&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/29010361-5367534503313871353?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29010361.post-2096903626738168919</guid><pubDate>Wed, 27 May 2009 22:45:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-28T00:48:23.536+02:00</atom:updated><title>Pensamentos ( I )</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;E uma vez mais te digo: A tendência generalizada é a de uma dissimulação plenamente contínua e racional que nos leva a sermos quem nunca seremos, a tentarmos ser. A insatisfação "esse sentimento não inato que o Homem criou" gera em nós o maior de todos os males, a inveja, a vingança, a actividade puramente instintiva, enquanto desejo mimético e animalesco. Só uma passibilidade pura, só um verdadeiro caminho de amor gera no Homem a potência de uma clareza de essência divina. É ainda esta clareza o fogo que Prometeu roubou aos Deuses ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pobres humanos... insolentes ! Pobres seres em eterno pecado.&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/29010361-2096903626738168919?l=artepelascrita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://artepelascrita.blogspot.com/2009/05/pensamentos-i.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Márcio Meruje)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>