<?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-7654454727244088708</id><updated>2012-02-03T14:31:05.399-08:00</updated><category term='sonhos'/><category term='coraçao'/><category term='lagrimas'/><category term='estrelas'/><title type='text'>Memories</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>36</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-6833240522282655560</id><published>2010-12-02T19:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T19:45:10.410-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ter que ver minha pele a se abrir &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E de dentro, sair o corpo seu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheio de cores e notas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheio de amor e dor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Triste mesmo foi ver saindo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que nunca me habitou&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lágrima em forma de sorrir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Você, que virou nuvem, oh amor meu!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-6833240522282655560?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/6833240522282655560/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=6833240522282655560' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/6833240522282655560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/6833240522282655560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2010/12/ter-que-ver-minha-pele-se-abrir-e-de.html' title=''/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-7684757072418631553</id><published>2010-07-04T14:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T14:29:30.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PENSAMENTO ENFERRUJADO</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/TDD83s0CETI/AAAAAAAAALQ/9UOadxbUN48/s1600/fosforo2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 279px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/TDD83s0CETI/AAAAAAAAALQ/9UOadxbUN48/s320/fosforo2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490165979617038642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As palavras travam, o raciocínio enferruja e os atos se corroem. Estas são características natas de pessoas com pensamento enferrujado.&lt;br /&gt;As pessoas se limitam a conhecer e explorar mais os outros, e se podam diante do mundo, tornando-se “estranguladores” da sua própria existência social.&lt;br /&gt;O relacionamento inter-pessoal é vital ao homem, sendo este o percussor do auto-crescimento e da vivência em sociedade.&lt;br /&gt;Mas por que ao invés de crescer e usufruir do conhecimento, as pessoas regridem e se tornam cada vez mais “primatas” em relação aos seus comportamentos? Preferem retroceder na vida, colocando um antolho em sua jaca mantendo uma visão frontal?&lt;br /&gt;Ok bacana, isso pode dar sentido ao que chamamos de visão de futuro, mas será que o mesmo não é projetado em know-how de 360º?&lt;br /&gt;Por que é tão difícil as pessoas explorarem outras áreas, e até mesmo outras pessoas para que expandam seus conhecimentos, ao invés de crer em apenas uma vertente ou uma só pessoa?&lt;br /&gt;Ninguém é perfeito, muito menos, dono da própria verdade, muito menos não há verdade absoluta, porém, este bloqueio mental se dá pela facilidade de absorver a opinião alheia; o que no fundo mesmo, isso é bem mais fácil do que tirar a ferrugem do cérebro.&lt;br /&gt;Por que a sua vontade não prevalece sob sua vida? Seria medo de sobrevivência ou muita oxidação na cuca?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://estranhoenaopensar.wordpress.com/about/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-7684757072418631553?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/7684757072418631553/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=7684757072418631553' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/7684757072418631553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/7684757072418631553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2010/07/pensamento-enferrujado.html' title='PENSAMENTO ENFERRUJADO'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/TDD83s0CETI/AAAAAAAAALQ/9UOadxbUN48/s72-c/fosforo2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-878533308142061861</id><published>2009-05-31T18:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T19:02:43.551-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Social Listener&lt;br /&gt;You love to be part of a crowd, but you don't like to be the centre of attention. You are shy and hate to feel that you are standing out. This can be difficult for you, because you love being around people, but you are always afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. Strangers tend to make you clam up entirely, because you are afraid of saying something completely inane and embarrassing yourself in front of all these people.&lt;br /&gt;With your close friends and family, you feel a little more comfortable, but even they tend to find you to be a bit of a closed book. You are a listener, and a compassionate friend, but you rarely come to anybody with your own troubles. You don't want to bother people with them, and confrontations of any kind tend to upset you.&lt;br /&gt;Your fear of being hurt is your biggest enemy, because while your silence protects you, it leads to your feelings often being trampled on or ignored.&lt;br /&gt;Your daemon would represent your quiet, sensitive and non-aggressive nature, as well as your desire to hide yourself from pain and trouble. He or she would truly understand you, and would whisper encouragement and praise in your ear when you most needed it.&lt;br /&gt;Suggested forms: Gazelle, Mouse, Giraffe, Sheep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-878533308142061861?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/878533308142061861/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=878533308142061861' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/878533308142061861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/878533308142061861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2009/05/social-listener-you-love-to-be-part-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-6695535730588319654</id><published>2009-03-08T09:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T09:44:11.375-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://omendigoeoceu.blogspot.com/2009/02/reticencias-nos-versos.html"&gt;Reticências Nos Versos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parecer bem é meu dever.&lt;br /&gt;Estar bem? Não consigo.&lt;br /&gt;Minha alma quer fugir,&lt;br /&gt;correr e se esquecer de mim.&lt;br /&gt;Por que meus olhos&lt;br /&gt;Estão tão vazios?&lt;br /&gt;O tempo escorre entre meus dedos.&lt;br /&gt;Minha vida se esvai num suspiro.&lt;br /&gt;Soluções tornam-se problemas&lt;br /&gt;Que eu não tenho vontade de resolver.&lt;br /&gt;Não encontro fim pr'os meus versos.&lt;br /&gt;A rotina acinzenta minha vida&lt;br /&gt;E minha vida acinzenta meus dias.&lt;br /&gt;Pontos finais tornam-se reticências&lt;br /&gt;E reticências tornam-se interrogações.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://omendigoeoceu.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html"&gt;http://omendigoeoceu.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-6695535730588319654?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/6695535730588319654/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=6695535730588319654' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/6695535730588319654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/6695535730588319654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2009/03/reticencias-nos-versos-parecer-bem-e.html' title=''/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-6961755093070493679</id><published>2009-02-17T20:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T20:05:01.911-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff&lt;br /&gt;afffff&lt;br /&gt;aff&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just wanna disappear....................................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aff&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-6961755093070493679?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/6961755093070493679/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=6961755093070493679' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/6961755093070493679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/6961755093070493679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2009/02/aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaffffffffffffffffff.html' title=''/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-8864628816769222868</id><published>2009-02-15T20:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T20:13:40.387-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjn7LZyY2I/AAAAAAAAAJc/ydjRywmWo7M/s1600-h/9175anjos.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303243565088007010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjn7LZyY2I/AAAAAAAAAJc/ydjRywmWo7M/s320/9175anjos.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anjo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eu tenho um anjo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ela não usa nenhuma asa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ela usa um coração&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que se junta ao meu&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ela usa um sorriso&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que pode me fazer querer cantar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ela me dá presentes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apenas com sua companhia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ela me dá tudo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que eu poderia querer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ela me dá beijos nos labios&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Só por ter vindo para casa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ela pode fazer anjos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eu já vi com meus própios olhos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Você tem que ser cuidadoso&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quando tem um bom amor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Por que os anjos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Continuaram só ase multiplicar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas você está tão ocupadamudando o mundo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Só um sorrisopode mudar todo o meu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nós dividimos a mesma alma.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-8864628816769222868?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/8864628816769222868/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=8864628816769222868' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/8864628816769222868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/8864628816769222868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2009/02/anjo-eu-tenho-um-anjo-ela-nao-usa.html' title=''/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjn7LZyY2I/AAAAAAAAAJc/ydjRywmWo7M/s72-c/9175anjos.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-5186493109299554926</id><published>2009-02-15T19:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T19:41:55.545-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjeOUZghWI/AAAAAAAAAJU/n0UEzEfD7x0/s1600-h/8579lixo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303232898803991906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjeOUZghWI/AAAAAAAAAJU/n0UEzEfD7x0/s320/8579lixo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Às vezes é preciso aprender a perder, a ouvir e não responder, a falar sem nada dizer, a esconder o que mais queremos mostrar, dar sem receber, sem cobrar, sem reclamar. Às vezes, é preciso partir antes do tempo, dizer aquilo que mais se teme dizer, arrumar a casa e a cabeça, limpar a alma. Às vezes, mais vale desistir do que insistir, esquecer do que querer. No ar ficará para sempre a dúvida se fizemos bem, mas pelo menos temos a paz de ter feito aquilo que devia ser feito, somos outra vez donos da nossa vida. Às vezes, é preciso abrir a janela e jogar tudo borda fora, queimar cartas e fotografias, esquecer a voz e o cheiro, as mãos e a cor da pele, apagar a memória sem medo de a perder para sempre, esquecer tudo, cada momento, cada minuto, cada passo e cada palavra, cada promessa e cada desilusão, atirar com tudo para dentro de uma gaveta e deitar fora a chave. Porque quem parte é quem sabe para onde vai, quem escolhe o seu caminho, mesmo que não haja caminho, porque o caminho se faz a andar. O sol, o vento o céu e o cheiro do mar são os nossos guias, a única companhia, a certeza que fizemos bem e que não podia ser de outra maneira. Quem fica, fica a ver, a pensar, a meditar, a lembrar. Até se conformar e um dia então, esquecer.»&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Crónicas da Margarida, Margarida Rebelo Pinto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-5186493109299554926?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/5186493109299554926/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=5186493109299554926' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/5186493109299554926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/5186493109299554926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2009/02/as-vezes-e-preciso-aprender-perder.html' title=''/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjeOUZghWI/AAAAAAAAAJU/n0UEzEfD7x0/s72-c/8579lixo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-1247290756352718668</id><published>2009-02-15T19:09:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T04:51:33.622-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I love you...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjZMvzvkCI/AAAAAAAAAJM/UyCg3s9uA70/s1600-h/vb.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303227374243909666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 205px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjZMvzvkCI/AAAAAAAAAJM/UyCg3s9uA70/s320/vb.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Porque não gosto de atirar palavras ao vento. Não te vou dizer que te amo sem que sinta o seu verdadeiro significado.&lt;br /&gt;“Então não me amas?”&lt;br /&gt;Estou apaixonada. Gosto muito de ti. Tenho-te muito carinho. O amor é algo muito maior, que vai surgindo e crescendo. Vai acontecendo.&lt;br /&gt;Estou a conhecer-te, pode ser que um dia te possa amar, e se um dia te disser que te amo podes ter a certeza que será sincero e não apenas mais uma palavra.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Texto retirado do site:    &lt;a href="http://reclamatione.wordpress.com/"&gt;http://reclamatione.wordpress.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&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/7654454727244088708-1247290756352718668?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/1247290756352718668/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=1247290756352718668' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/1247290756352718668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/1247290756352718668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2009/02/porque-nao-gosto-de-atirar-palavras-ao.html' title='I love you...'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjZMvzvkCI/AAAAAAAAAJM/UyCg3s9uA70/s72-c/vb.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-4953117613779137390</id><published>2009-02-15T19:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T04:53:39.059-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjYkgy644I/AAAAAAAAAJE/u0pPio0lyGQ/s1600-h/And_the_manta_says___Home_by_ploop26.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303226683019158402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 261px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjYkgy644I/AAAAAAAAAJE/u0pPio0lyGQ/s320/And_the_manta_says___Home_by_ploop26.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://nonnetta.deviantart.com/art/Great-expectations-107070106" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O receio de me entregar a ti apodera-se de mim quando nos vejo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sinto que esperas mais do que aquilo que sou.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Espectativas altas levam a grandes desapontamentos. Não quero isso, aumenta &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;a probabilidade de te perder, de perder o que temos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não crio espectativas, não acredito nelas, abraço o que existe para mim para o valorizar. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas sei que tu crias, é inato.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A imperfeição leva de mim o que quer, até o que sinto por ti.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sucumbo a ela como ser humana, como mulher. Não me esperes anjo ou deusa, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;asas não tenho nem a beleza é pura.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Imperfeita, quero que me vejas e abraces como sou. Mulher que te quer amar,menina nos meus defeitos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Texto retirado do site:   &lt;a href="http://reclamatione.wordpress.com/"&gt;http://reclamatione.wordpress.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-4953117613779137390?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/4953117613779137390/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=4953117613779137390' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/4953117613779137390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/4953117613779137390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2009/02/o-receio-de-me-entregar-ti-apodera-se.html' title=''/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjYkgy644I/AAAAAAAAAJE/u0pPio0lyGQ/s72-c/And_the_manta_says___Home_by_ploop26.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-4943337667632774581</id><published>2009-02-15T18:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T18:55:59.455-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What is Love?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjVoHV-cZI/AAAAAAAAAI8/BPmrfOwl2To/s1600-h/The_poor_lover_by_ploop26.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303223446371463570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 191px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjVoHV-cZI/AAAAAAAAAI8/BPmrfOwl2To/s320/The_poor_lover_by_ploop26.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I Love You is so easy to say. But so many times it doesn’t mean a thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I Love You. Could be everything. As long as we don’t know what love means.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I think love is not in what we say, love is in what we do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And when we say we love we’ve got something to prove.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is Love?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-4943337667632774581?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/4943337667632774581/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=4943337667632774581' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/4943337667632774581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/4943337667632774581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-is-love.html' title='What is Love?'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjVoHV-cZI/AAAAAAAAAI8/BPmrfOwl2To/s72-c/The_poor_lover_by_ploop26.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-83887445469004331</id><published>2009-02-15T18:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T18:52:17.245-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjUjOrepOI/AAAAAAAAAI0/AmuXgROU0cc/s1600-h/460olho.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303222262929728738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjUjOrepOI/AAAAAAAAAI0/AmuXgROU0cc/s320/460olho.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You are in my heart &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You are in my soul &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You are my love,you are my Bestfriend &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes..You are in my soul...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You are the only thing that remains of my lost soul! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas...simples palavras... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;E hoje em dia... como é que se diz eu te amo? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-83887445469004331?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/83887445469004331/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=83887445469004331' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/83887445469004331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/83887445469004331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2009/02/you-are-in-my-heart-you-are-in-my-soul.html' title=''/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjUjOrepOI/AAAAAAAAAI0/AmuXgROU0cc/s72-c/460olho.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-3032531033531176452</id><published>2009-02-15T18:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T04:52:36.602-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A menina de muros altos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjTVzg-TfI/AAAAAAAAAIs/CwcFB0x-ec8/s1600-h/the_suffering_by_ploop26.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303220932787981810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjTVzg-TfI/AAAAAAAAAIs/CwcFB0x-ec8/s320/the_suffering_by_ploop26.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Era uma vez uma menina que subiu o muro mais alto porque queria ser mais.Mais alta que todos lá em baixo.Mais que uma menina.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Queria ser mais em si mesma.E a menina subiu o muro.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Magoou as mãos, magoou os joelhos, subiu a muito custo. Quase caiu por variadas vezes e noutras simplesmente recomeçou de onde tinha conseguido agarrar-se. Mas persistiu.Quando chegou lá em cima, pôs-se de pé na pontinha do parapeito daquele Muro Alto, abriu os braços, sentiu o vento, olhou em volta e sorriu.&lt;br /&gt;Ficou Feliz. “Consegui subir sozinha!” pensou a Menina.Sentou-se e olhou para baixo e de lá via as pessoas a passar, pequenas em si mesmas, ocupadas, atarefadas.Por momentos a Menina sentiu-se bem.E disse mais uma vez, para si mesma, “Consegui subir sozinha…” e uma voz veio de dentro da Menina e respondeu-lhe “E agora estás aqui sozinha, enquanto o mundo passa por ti, lá embaixo, sem te ver.”&lt;br /&gt;Sou aquela menina sentada no muro..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que brinca com o fogo mesmo com medo de se magoar.Que gosta dos jogos de fazer de conta.Brinca às escondidas em si própria.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tem tanto de inocente como de mulher.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tem tanto de indecente como de menina.&lt;br /&gt;Tem tanto de Menina, como de mulher. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E a Menina continua sentada no muro, subiu alto e agora tem medo de descer sozinha&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Texto retirado do site: &lt;a href="http://reclamatione.wordpress.com/"&gt;http://reclamatione.wordpress.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-3032531033531176452?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/3032531033531176452/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=3032531033531176452' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/3032531033531176452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/3032531033531176452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2009/02/menina-de-muros-altos.html' title='A menina de muros altos'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SZjTVzg-TfI/AAAAAAAAAIs/CwcFB0x-ec8/s72-c/the_suffering_by_ploop26.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-5720883847351765036</id><published>2009-01-28T19:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T19:27:21.578-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MAIS UM CAPÍTULO</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SYEhso5sksI/AAAAAAAAAIk/E6rvhDYhsM4/s1600-h/stair.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296551687541789378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SYEhso5sksI/AAAAAAAAAIk/E6rvhDYhsM4/s320/stair.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Várias pessoas deixaram marcas em minha frágil e firme vida&lt;br /&gt;Agora é você que possui o segredo da passagem&lt;br /&gt;Te permito entrar e fazer história&lt;br /&gt;Ser testemunha do meu viver&lt;br /&gt;Porém já sigo insegura, sem eternas expectativas&lt;br /&gt;Já cheguei aonde acha que se está iniciando&lt;br /&gt;Já estive por lá&lt;br /&gt;Sei do final, sei do escuro&lt;br /&gt;Mas a oferta do início parece brilhar&lt;br /&gt;Portanto seguirei até o fim do inicio&lt;br /&gt;Depois já na decepção e angústia&lt;br /&gt;Assistirei em silêncio sua fina e inevitável retirada&lt;br /&gt;Você vai como mais um capítulo&lt;br /&gt;Fica aqui uma estrela em seu nome&lt;br /&gt;E a tristeza de se sentir só&lt;br /&gt;De sentir a perda de você e de seus encantos confortos&lt;br /&gt;Era um final feliz,&lt;br /&gt;Mas sabíamos do desfecho, inevitável, porém elementar&lt;br /&gt;Dei-te a chave de um capítulo eterno&lt;br /&gt;E agora me repouso em meus breves momentos.&lt;br /&gt;Não é nossa culpa,&lt;br /&gt;Somente não resistimos ás ilusões.&lt;br /&gt;Foi bom experimentar a ilusão de ser feliz&lt;br /&gt;Foram momentos perpétuos.&lt;br /&gt;Obrigada ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Renata Coura&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-5720883847351765036?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/5720883847351765036/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=5720883847351765036' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/5720883847351765036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/5720883847351765036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2009/01/mais-um-capitulo.html' title='MAIS UM CAPÍTULO'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SYEhso5sksI/AAAAAAAAAIk/E6rvhDYhsM4/s72-c/stair.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-8720360249208416462</id><published>2008-11-22T16:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T20:51:01.218-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DIFERENTES MUNDOS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SSioqbC6WDI/AAAAAAAAAIc/OTBfu26AZ00/s1600-h/2942171866_019a96a282.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271648810605107250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 278px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SSioqbC6WDI/AAAAAAAAAIc/OTBfu26AZ00/s320/2942171866_019a96a282.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;DIFERENTES MUNDOS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por que?&lt;br /&gt;Porque você me deixa assim?&lt;br /&gt;Esperança? Hora sim; hora não&lt;br /&gt;No vácuo, solta no universo&lt;br /&gt;Só, mesmo acompanhada&lt;br /&gt;Não por você, mas pelas estrelas do céu&lt;br /&gt;Será que nunca poderei demonstrar meu amor?&lt;br /&gt;Ser amada?&lt;br /&gt;Você tem seu mundo, confuso e ingênuo&lt;br /&gt;Criança&lt;br /&gt;Faço dele parte?&lt;br /&gt;Hora sim? Hora não?&lt;br /&gt;Queria que soubesse, sou distante nos sentimentos&lt;br /&gt;Não sei amar, nem encantar&lt;br /&gt;Vergonha? Hora sim, hora não&lt;br /&gt;Queria que me ensinasse com toda sua alma.&lt;br /&gt;Me compreendesse...&lt;br /&gt;Me amas? Hora sim? Hora não?&lt;br /&gt;Também tenho meu mundo, frio, congelante&lt;br /&gt;Inexplorado.&lt;br /&gt;Nosso amor é diferente, queria ter certeza do seu,&lt;br /&gt;Me faça ter certeza do meu...&lt;br /&gt;Mais do que já tenho&lt;br /&gt;Simplesmente não sei amar...   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                                                                                         --Renata Coura--&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&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/7654454727244088708-8720360249208416462?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/8720360249208416462/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=8720360249208416462' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/8720360249208416462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/8720360249208416462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/11/diferentes-mundos-por-que-porque-voc-me.html' title='DIFERENTES MUNDOS'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SSioqbC6WDI/AAAAAAAAAIc/OTBfu26AZ00/s72-c/2942171866_019a96a282.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-496207880276134499</id><published>2008-11-16T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T18:27:29.072-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SSDuCfwcK5I/AAAAAAAAAIU/zV8SQQ97SU4/s1600-h/bird3.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 308px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269473290675301266" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SSDuCfwcK5I/AAAAAAAAAIU/zV8SQQ97SU4/s320/bird3.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queria ser um passarinho&lt;br /&gt;Ver o mundo do lado de fora&lt;br /&gt;Só ter que voar&lt;br /&gt;Voar pelo mundo e pelo meu Brazil&lt;br /&gt;Poder voar sem me preocupar aonde irei pousar&lt;br /&gt;Queria poder voar, queria poder voar pra lá&lt;br /&gt;Sentir ser um passarinho ...&lt;br /&gt;O passarinho não conhece a palavra liberdade&lt;br /&gt;Só conhece o ódio quem já provou do amor&lt;br /&gt;A felicidade quem já sentiu a dor&lt;br /&gt;A liberdade quem já não a teve&lt;br /&gt;O passarinho&lt;br /&gt;Livre sempre foi...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;renata coura&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-496207880276134499?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/496207880276134499/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=496207880276134499' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/496207880276134499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/496207880276134499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/11/voar-queria-ser-um-passarinho-ver-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SSDuCfwcK5I/AAAAAAAAAIU/zV8SQQ97SU4/s72-c/bird3.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-2298896837107710476</id><published>2008-11-11T17:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T18:28:27.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ENCANTO</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SRo1On-7faI/AAAAAAAAAIM/CVwa-CLbDgM/s1600-h/2035187334_cd156bc22b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267581239530585506" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SRo1On-7faI/AAAAAAAAAIM/CVwa-CLbDgM/s320/2035187334_cd156bc22b.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SRotQerM3hI/AAAAAAAAAIE/Z7yXfRWv7Xc/s1600-h/eclipse_lunar_lua%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Encanto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já se foi o encanto,&lt;br /&gt;A brisa da manhã, que outrora era tão primícia&lt;br /&gt;O ar de outrem já se espirou&lt;br /&gt;O que fica agora em meus braços é apenas uma rotina&lt;br /&gt;Rotineira e nova&lt;br /&gt;O que se espera de coração sempre alcança&lt;br /&gt;O que se pede de alma é o intangível prazer eterno&lt;br /&gt;Quero-te meu assim , como a Lua&lt;br /&gt;Serei o Sol te quero inseguro, dependente&lt;br /&gt;Conhecer-te por inteiro, ter seu cheiro...&lt;br /&gt;Prefiro não ser quem sou, mas já que sou irei conformar-me&lt;br /&gt;Caminho em alegoria á Epicuro&lt;br /&gt;Sem expectativas a esse mundo&lt;br /&gt;Apenas vivendo...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;renata coura&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/7654454727244088708-2298896837107710476?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/2298896837107710476/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=2298896837107710476' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/2298896837107710476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/2298896837107710476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/11/encanto.html' title='ENCANTO'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SRo1On-7faI/AAAAAAAAAIM/CVwa-CLbDgM/s72-c/2035187334_cd156bc22b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-5369296488144903455</id><published>2008-11-07T18:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T18:30:00.068-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ALEGRIA?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SRT_LpmrIqI/AAAAAAAAAH8/WI_648XZtr0/s1600-h/unhappy+clow.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 236px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266114439914660514" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SRT_LpmrIqI/AAAAAAAAAH8/WI_648XZtr0/s320/unhappy+clow.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alegria?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alegria, quem conhece?&lt;br /&gt;O Sol a Lua, as estrelas?&lt;br /&gt;Não, ninguém há que possa defini-la&lt;br /&gt;Ou ao menos que seja capaz de vivê-la&lt;br /&gt;Se pensarmos vamos ver que nossa vida&lt;br /&gt;Não mais, não menos: tristeza&lt;br /&gt;Tal que disfarçada por sorriso&lt;br /&gt;Gargalhada? Talvez...&lt;br /&gt;Somos, sou, éramos, era,&lt;br /&gt;Criticada, julgada, aniquilada.&lt;br /&gt;Meu ser se retrai minúsculo&lt;br /&gt;Alegria essa tão ilusória , presente nos Sonhos&lt;br /&gt;Nuvens são sonhos, universo; sonho.&lt;br /&gt;Eu? Simplesmente não sou&lt;br /&gt;Sei que posso tentar&lt;br /&gt;Talvez conseguir&lt;br /&gt;Mas nunca vencer sem desistir&lt;br /&gt;Simplesmente não a alcanço&lt;br /&gt;Sou o que sou não o que falam&lt;br /&gt;Não sou o que sou, sou o que acho que não sou&lt;br /&gt;Sou nada. Sou tudo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;renata coura&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-5369296488144903455?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/5369296488144903455/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=5369296488144903455' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/5369296488144903455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/5369296488144903455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/11/alegria.html' title='ALEGRIA?'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SRT_LpmrIqI/AAAAAAAAAH8/WI_648XZtr0/s72-c/unhappy+clow.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-4749042569983116766</id><published>2008-11-01T18:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T19:15:15.254-07:00</updated><title type='text'>AINDA HÁ COR?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SQ0M8tETfUI/AAAAAAAAAHs/UxyubsG11WQ/s1600-h/506790155_9c70979762.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263877776495312194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 230px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SQ0M8tETfUI/AAAAAAAAAHs/UxyubsG11WQ/s320/506790155_9c70979762.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ainda há cor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O sentido da vida diluiu-se&lt;br /&gt;Em profundos, talvez gotas de sentimentos&lt;br /&gt;Difícil irá ser a jornada de volta&lt;br /&gt;Porém possível, sim, claramente&lt;br /&gt;Em outras oportunidades eu seria feliz, talvez,&lt;br /&gt;O nosso sentido se baseia em luz, meta,&lt;br /&gt;Mas como o meu?&lt;br /&gt;Se a minha dádiva se ocultou?&lt;br /&gt;As flores perderam a cor e seu aroma&lt;br /&gt;Quem dera eu poder ver a luz só mais uma vez&lt;br /&gt;Há em meu mais intimo ser,&lt;br /&gt;A verdadeira guerra, profecia, guerreira&lt;br /&gt;Bem e mal, mal e bem, já não sei dicernir&lt;br /&gt;Quando a mancha de mim se apodera&lt;br /&gt;Luz parece nunca chegar, inascecível, tranqüila,&lt;br /&gt;Meu sentido esvaiu-se, sem rumo á meu mundo,&lt;br /&gt;A vida é formada pelo mundo de cada um; entrelaçados.&lt;br /&gt;Há diferença no meu? Talvez haja a fórmula&lt;br /&gt;A da minha particular felicidade.&lt;br /&gt;Não sinto mais nada, não sou eu o meu próprio eu&lt;br /&gt;O conflito persiste, sem ajuda, esperança,&lt;br /&gt;Meta: sentir o prazer de viver; viver!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;--Renata Coura--&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-4749042569983116766?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/4749042569983116766/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=4749042569983116766' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/4749042569983116766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/4749042569983116766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/11/ainda-h-cor.html' title='AINDA HÁ COR?'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SQ0M8tETfUI/AAAAAAAAAHs/UxyubsG11WQ/s72-c/506790155_9c70979762.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-6351047872214064109</id><published>2008-10-25T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T11:16:53.257-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PARENTS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SQNicChgc1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/C1CYDnTB8Wk/s1600-h/parents.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261157023552140114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 226px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SQNicChgc1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/C1CYDnTB8Wk/s320/parents.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O pior cárcere não é o que aprisiona o corpo, mas o que asfixia a mente e algema a emoção. Sem liberdade, as mulheres sufocam seu prazer. Sem sabedoria, os homens se tornam máquinas de trabalhar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;--&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a class="autor" href="http://www.pensador.info/autor/Augusto_Cury/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Augusto Cury&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&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/7654454727244088708-6351047872214064109?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/6351047872214064109/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=6351047872214064109' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/6351047872214064109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/6351047872214064109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/10/parents.html' title='PARENTS'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SQNicChgc1I/AAAAAAAAAHk/C1CYDnTB8Wk/s72-c/parents.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-6914467820018632655</id><published>2008-10-19T21:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T21:29:32.025-07:00</updated><title type='text'>INTO THE WILD</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SPwJHC4v6jI/AAAAAAAAAHc/pnK3rv_cCp8/s1600-h/into-the-wild-emile-hirsch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259088481500523058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SPwJHC4v6jI/AAAAAAAAAHc/pnK3rv_cCp8/s320/into-the-wild-emile-hirsch.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Um filme que me tocou numa vontade íntima de trilhar caminhos em direção aos meus limites. Conta a história verídica de um rapaz chamado Christopher McCandless que ao terminar a graduação e receber o diploma rejeita toda a grana que tinha, destrói os documentos de identidade e passa a se nomear Alexander Supertramp. Abandona seu carro e sai com um mochilão nas costas pela estrada colhendo caronas numa jornada em direção ao Alasca sem deixar rastros aos familiares. Ao longo dessa jornada ele conhece lugares e pessoas onde e com quem vivencia encontros especiais. Não falo mais muita coisa não. Não quero contaminar. Só digo que a trilha sonora é apaixonante e a fotografia uma lindura.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Falo desse filme porque ele me fez pensar em mim mesmo. Na minha natureza selvagem, nessa força que me empurra sempre que algo me prende em alguma coisa. Na maioria das vezes esse “algo” e essa “coisa” quase sempre dizem respeito a medos e vaidades respectivamente. O nome dessa força é liberdade. Liberdade é coisa real e séria e bonita. Todo mundo que é vivo tem um bocado dessa força nas veias, nas artérias e nos olhos. Só que nos caminhos tortuosos das rotinas pseudoconfortantes acontece muitas vezes de a gente ficar marcando bobeira e a vida acaba ficando cinza e os olhos meio tristes. Pesco uma frase do filme: “o importante não é ser forte, é sentir-se forte”. Sentir-se forte é ter sintonia com essa nossa força íntima, sentir seus movimentos e vibrar junto com eles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Outra frase: “admitir que a vida seja guiada pela razão é destruir nossas possibilidades de viver”. A gente tem que tomar muito cuidado com nossas certezas. Não que elas não sejam necessárias em alguns momentos, mas não podemos deixar de nos descobrir mais fortes que elas. Buscar sentir essa força íntima que nos move enquanto seres vivos pode ser uma bela maneira de viver. Como por exemplo, sentar na beiradinha da praia e sentir que a força das coisas é como as ondas do mar; respirar fundo, sentir o vento, experimentar as luzes ficando mais luzes e as belezas se mostrando verdades que se combinam em infinitos enlaces artísticos. É que um mundo inteiro faz parte do que somos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Falar de coisas que sinto é sempre problemático. Brilho dos olhos é melhor de se compartilhar do que palavras. Então termino esse começo de conversa dizendo que o filme deixou em mim os olhos transbordando de brilhos bons. Se você se interessar em assistir e sentir os olhos brilhando será um prazer enorme pra mim se quiser compartilhar dessas luzes. É que essas belezuras da vida ganham brilhos outros quando vistas por outros olhos. Aí lembro e pesco outra frase do filme: “A felicidade só é verdadeira quando é partilhada”. A coletividade é uma força maior que nós. É essa força que nos torna irmãos e amigos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--Namastê.Felipe, 10º período.PET Psicologia--&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-6914467820018632655?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/6914467820018632655/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=6914467820018632655' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/6914467820018632655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/6914467820018632655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/10/into-wild.html' title='INTO THE WILD'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SPwJHC4v6jI/AAAAAAAAAHc/pnK3rv_cCp8/s72-c/into-the-wild-emile-hirsch.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-5858508829105935729</id><published>2008-09-29T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T19:51:48.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The tiger</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SOGTGlWJGbI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/koqfX6D7wjY/s1600-h/tigers.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251640381804190130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SOGTGlWJGbI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/koqfX6D7wjY/s320/tigers.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;O Tigre&lt;br /&gt;Tigre, tigre, viva chama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Que as florestas da noite inflama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Que olho ou mão imortal podia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Traçar-te a horrível simetria?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Em que abismo ou céu longe ardeu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;O fogo dos olhos teus?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Com que asas ousou ele o vôo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Que mão ousou pegar o fogo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Que arte &amp;amp; braço pôde então&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Torcer-te as fibras do coração?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Quando ele já estava batendo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Que mãos e que pés horrendos?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Que cadeia? Que martelo,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Que fornalha teve o teu cérebro?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Que bigorna? Que tenaz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Pegou-lhe os horrores mortais?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Quando os astros alancearam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;O céu e em pranto banharam,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Sorriu ele ao ver o seu feito?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Fez-te quem fez o cordeiro?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Tigre, tigre, Viva chama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Que as florestas da noite inflama,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Que olho ou imortal mão ousaria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Traçar-te a horrível simetria?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;by William Blake&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Este poema é em homenagem á Bruna^^&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;pq só vc sabe o significado....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-5858508829105935729?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/5858508829105935729/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=5858508829105935729' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/5858508829105935729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/5858508829105935729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/09/tiger.html' title='The tiger'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SOGTGlWJGbI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/koqfX6D7wjY/s72-c/tigers.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-3193258843444983699</id><published>2008-09-07T12:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T13:12:58.622-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Saint Prision</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SN_lN7hnr0I/AAAAAAAAAHI/DjmbhX9I4PI/s1600-h/bird2.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251167718017052482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SN_lN7hnr0I/AAAAAAAAAHI/DjmbhX9I4PI/s320/bird2.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pássaro na Gaiola&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Sou um passarinho, sem campos sem ar&lt;br /&gt;Na minha gaiola sento-me a cantar&lt;br /&gt;Para Quem aqui me aprisionou.&lt;br /&gt;Bem satisfeito prisioneiro sou&lt;br /&gt;E assim, meu Deus, quero te agradar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Aqui, nada tendo para realizar,&lt;br /&gt;Todo o longo dia só posso cantar.&lt;br /&gt;As minhas asas Ele amarrou,&lt;br /&gt;Mas o meu canto muito O agradou,&lt;br /&gt;Inda se curva pra me escutar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Tu tens paciência para me escutar,&lt;br /&gt;E um coração pronto para a mim amar.&lt;br /&gt;Gostas de ouvir meu rude louvor&lt;br /&gt;Pois sabes que o amor, quão doce amor!&lt;br /&gt;Inspira todo esse meu cantar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Preso na gaiola não posso sair,&lt;br /&gt;Mas minha prisão não pode me impedir&lt;br /&gt;A liberdade do coração&lt;br /&gt;Que sempre voa em Tua direção,&lt;br /&gt;Minh´alma livre, a Ti vai se unir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Oh! Que gozo imenso poder me elevar&lt;br /&gt;Para as alturas a Ti contemplar.&lt;br /&gt;Tua vontade e desígnio amar&lt;br /&gt;Minha alegria neles encontrar,&lt;br /&gt;Livre, em teus braços me aconchegar .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---M.GUYON---&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-3193258843444983699?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/3193258843444983699/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=3193258843444983699' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/3193258843444983699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/3193258843444983699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/09/saint-prision.html' title='Saint Prision'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SN_lN7hnr0I/AAAAAAAAAHI/DjmbhX9I4PI/s72-c/bird2.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-3804207736476203259</id><published>2008-08-26T18:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T13:30:06.712-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Adolescencia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SNaurCd0ePI/AAAAAAAAAHA/WhqTGfjzqf8/s1600-h/779850789.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248574470166444274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SNaurCd0ePI/AAAAAAAAAHA/WhqTGfjzqf8/s320/779850789.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fase da vida.&lt;br /&gt;Deslumbrantes descobertas.&lt;br /&gt;Transformações.&lt;br /&gt;A mente e o corpo em ebulição.&lt;br /&gt;Um novo mundo se desvenda.&lt;br /&gt;Misterioso, fascinante..&lt;br /&gt;Às vezes contraditório,Dúvidas, inseguranças, insatisfações..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A constante procura na busca do eu.&lt;br /&gt;Os modelos do passado se conflitam com o presente.&lt;br /&gt;A vontade de experimentar&lt;br /&gt;A qualquer preço.&lt;br /&gt;Aprender, fazendo.Sem moldes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um futuro se delineia com os acertos e desacertos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Fátima Vieira Coimbra-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-3804207736476203259?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/3804207736476203259/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=3804207736476203259' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/3804207736476203259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/3804207736476203259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/08/adolescencia.html' title='Adolescencia'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SNaurCd0ePI/AAAAAAAAAHA/WhqTGfjzqf8/s72-c/779850789.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-1841797528623714922</id><published>2008-08-26T18:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T13:10:39.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CONVICÇÕES ABALADAS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SNap_GIskkI/AAAAAAAAAG4/nGgBbs73FK0/s1600-h/842493889.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248569317190832706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SNap_GIskkI/AAAAAAAAAG4/nGgBbs73FK0/s320/842493889.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://danielluvisiart.blogspot.com/" hasbox="2"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Há momentos que nos perdemos...de nós mesmos. Surpreendemo-nos com nossas próprias atitudes. Na realidade, chegamos mesmos a nos desconhecer; como se perdêssemos nosso referencial. Sinto-me assim. Fazer aquilo que achávamos que não faríamos nunca.Mas o que justifica essa mudança é o amor excessivo, aliás, acho que o erro é esse. É preciso ter medida. Que pena , só sentimos quando já exageramos. Ou será insegurança? Preciso gostar mais de mim!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Fátima Vieira Coimbra-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-1841797528623714922?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/1841797528623714922/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=1841797528623714922' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/1841797528623714922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/1841797528623714922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/08/convices-abaladas.html' title='CONVICÇÕES ABALADAS'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SNap_GIskkI/AAAAAAAAAG4/nGgBbs73FK0/s72-c/842493889.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-4189205753515772973</id><published>2008-08-26T17:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T18:06:47.610-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O sexo é sagrado</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SLSoNG9AxgI/AAAAAAAAAGo/dpQfiEYK_KU/s1600-h/202699136_c7fa74a7b4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238997209697011202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SLSoNG9AxgI/AAAAAAAAAGo/dpQfiEYK_KU/s320/202699136_c7fa74a7b4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O sexo é sagrado...&lt;br /&gt;O sexo é sagrado,&lt;br /&gt;como salgadas são as gotas de suor&lt;br /&gt;que brotam dos meus poros&lt;br /&gt;e encharcam nossas peles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A noite é meu templo&lt;br /&gt;onde me torno um deus enlouquecido&lt;br /&gt;sentindo tua pele sobre os meus pelos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neste instante já não sou nada,&lt;br /&gt;somente corpo,&lt;br /&gt;boca,&lt;br /&gt;pele,&lt;br /&gt;pêlos,&lt;br /&gt;línguas,&lt;br /&gt;bocas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E a vida brota da semente,&lt;br /&gt;dos poucos segundos de êxtase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuas mãos como um brinquedo&lt;br /&gt;passeiam pelo meu corpo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não revelam segredos&lt;br /&gt;desvendam apenas o pudor do mundo,&lt;br /&gt;descobrem a febre dos animais.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Então nos tornamos um&lt;br /&gt;ao mesmo tempo em que&lt;br /&gt;a escuridão explode em festa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A noite amanhece sem versos,&lt;br /&gt;com a música do seu hálito ofegante.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O sol brota de dentro de mim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breves segundos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por alguns instantes dispo-me do sofrimento.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou feliz.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;- &lt;a href="http://www.webartigos.com/authors/3361/Nilson-Maranhao-Moreira"&gt;Nilson Maranhao Moreira&lt;/a&gt;- &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-4189205753515772973?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/4189205753515772973/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=4189205753515772973' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/4189205753515772973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/4189205753515772973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/08/o-sexo-sagrado.html' title='O sexo é sagrado'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SLSoNG9AxgI/AAAAAAAAAGo/dpQfiEYK_KU/s72-c/202699136_c7fa74a7b4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-1726061566336709005</id><published>2008-08-23T11:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T20:46:06.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vegetarian</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SLDZSUnR5UI/AAAAAAAAAGY/gUCC5yndnS4/s1600-h/369202726_854ca5c5f4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237925275426219330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SLDZSUnR5UI/AAAAAAAAAGY/gUCC5yndnS4/s320/369202726_854ca5c5f4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quanto mais o homem simplifica a sua alimentação e se afasta do regime carnívoro, mais sábia é a sua mente.&lt;br /&gt;(George Bernard Shaw)&lt;br /&gt;Eu não tenho dúvidas de que é parte do destino da raça humana, na sua evolução gradual, parar de comer animais.&lt;br /&gt;(Henry David Thoreau)&lt;br /&gt;Quando me tornei vegetariano, poupei dois seres, o outro e eu.&lt;br /&gt;(Hermógenes)&lt;br /&gt;Como zeladores do planeta, é nossa responsabilidade lidar com todas as espécies com carinho, amor e compaixão. As crueldades que os animais sofrem pelas mãos dos homens estão além de nossa compreensão. Por favor, ajudem a parar com esta loucura.&lt;br /&gt;(Richard Gere)&lt;br /&gt;Se os matadouros tivessem paredes de vidro, todos seriam vegetarianos. Nós nos sentimos melhores com nós mesmos e melhores com os animais, sabendo que não estamos contribuindo para o sofrimento deles.&lt;br /&gt;(Paul e Linda McCartney&lt;br /&gt;Nada beneficiará tanto a saúde humana e aumentará as chances de sobrevivência da vida na terra quanto a evolução para uma dieta vegetariana. A ordem de vida vegetariana, por seus efeitos físicos, influenciará o temperamento dos homens de uma tal maneira que melhorará em muito o destino da humanidade.&lt;br /&gt;(Albert Einstein)&lt;br /&gt;"Ser vegetariano é uma situação em que todos ganham.Os animais ganham; o meio ambiente ganha; e as pessoas ganham uma vida mais saudável e mais longa"&lt;br /&gt;Sherrill Durbin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://revistaepoca.globo.com/Revista/Epoca/0,,EDG74465-5856-421,00-VEGETARIANISMO+A+FAVOR+DO+MEIO+AMBIENTE.html"&gt;http://revistaepoca.globo.com/Revista/Epoca/0,,EDG74465-5856-421,00-VEGETARIANISMO+A+FAVOR+DO+MEIO+AMBIENTE.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-1726061566336709005?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/1726061566336709005/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=1726061566336709005' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/1726061566336709005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/1726061566336709005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/08/vegetariano.html' title='Vegetarian'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SLDZSUnR5UI/AAAAAAAAAGY/gUCC5yndnS4/s72-c/369202726_854ca5c5f4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-5942173301705373267</id><published>2008-08-23T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T11:17:53.048-07:00</updated><title type='text'>There's no present</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SLBSe2dlLDI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/aSUcGBzPAoA/s1600-h/2029204248_9e4a77009d.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237777056601025586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="320" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SLBSe2dlLDI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/aSUcGBzPAoA/s320/2029204248_9e4a77009d.jpg" width="233" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000080;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;dir&gt;&lt;p&gt;"A fossa existencial é uma constante, e não há alternativa de fuga, pois os momentos são momentos e a feliciadade não existe em tempo eterno. Há um momento feliz e um infeliz. A partir do instante em que a fase feliz entra em minha vida, eu ja vivo a espera do proximo instante desagradavel e fico imaginado como virá, orindo de quê, da vida sim, mas sob q forma, enfim, uma série de imagens antes do fato em si. Ai permaneço no momento feliz tendo o conhecimento profundo de que este momento feliz não deve ser vivido com a felicidade que exala dele. Não há cérebro, que jamais deixa de examinar todos os instantes que advirão, possa deixar-se levar por um ínfimo instante de felicidade, quando os problemas não foram solucionados em suas bases. Aí eu penso: como viver o momento presente se o futuro não me deixa seguir sossegado?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/dir&gt;&lt;/b&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/7654454727244088708-5942173301705373267?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/5942173301705373267/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=5942173301705373267' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/5942173301705373267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/5942173301705373267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/08/theres-no-present.html' title='There&apos;s no present'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SLBSe2dlLDI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/aSUcGBzPAoA/s72-c/2029204248_9e4a77009d.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-4502674105889122988</id><published>2008-08-10T19:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T19:52:02.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Understand</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJ-pJ0ojv0I/AAAAAAAAAFE/woU6ATdre80/s1600-h/flowerpetalgirl.jpgsdfg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233087278240481090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJ-pJ0ojv0I/AAAAAAAAAFE/woU6ATdre80/s320/flowerpetalgirl.jpgsdfg.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Não entendo. Isso é tão vasto que ultrapassa qualquer entender. Entender é sempre limitado. Mas não entender pode não ter fronteiras. Sinto que sou muito mais completa quando não entendo. Não entender, do modo como falo, é um dom. Não entender, mas não como um simples de espírito. O bom é ser inteligente e não entender. É uma benção estranha, como ter loucura sem ser doida. É um desinteresse manso, é uma doçura de burrice. Só que de vez em quando vem a inquietação: quero entender um pouco. Não demais: mas pelo menos entender que não entendo."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Clarice Lispector-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-4502674105889122988?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/4502674105889122988/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=4502674105889122988' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/4502674105889122988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/4502674105889122988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/08/understand.html' title='Understand'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJ-pJ0ojv0I/AAAAAAAAAFE/woU6ATdre80/s72-c/flowerpetalgirl.jpgsdfg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-7485021119903554288</id><published>2008-08-04T17:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T19:14:14.928-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wisdom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJ-gQYPtxII/AAAAAAAAAEs/fNmDdENWDx8/s1600-h/vvc+vc.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233077495274521730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJ-gQYPtxII/AAAAAAAAAEs/fNmDdENWDx8/s320/vvc+vc.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJ-f0CZlRoI/AAAAAAAAAEk/2RrQFpoTlBI/s1600-h/wisdom.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;'' O homem pode tornar-se culto a partir da cultura dos outros, mas somente&lt;br /&gt;se torna sábio pela própria experiencia.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Provérbio chinês-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&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/7654454727244088708-7485021119903554288?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/7485021119903554288/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=7485021119903554288' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/7485021119903554288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/7485021119903554288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/08/o-homem-pode-tornar-se-culto-partir-da.html' title='Wisdom'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJ-gQYPtxII/AAAAAAAAAEs/fNmDdENWDx8/s72-c/vvc+vc.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-4851846392550883274</id><published>2008-08-03T20:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T20:51:42.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Universo Particular</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJZ8q_zscmI/AAAAAAAAADg/7ArA6a9Q1wo/s1600-h/sdg.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230505095362015842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJZ8q_zscmI/AAAAAAAAADg/7ArA6a9Q1wo/s320/sdg.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJZ7XAb0INI/AAAAAAAAADY/FMXnXRGirrk/s1600-h/sdg.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quando falamos, nos comunicamos, é quando estamos passando ao outro uma ponta da nossa essência, um pouco do nosso universo particular...é o contato do outro com o nosso interior; por isso devemos se cautelosos com a forma que costumamos transmitir essa nossa individualidade complexa, quando tentamos, em vão, nos comunicar....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;                                                                                                                           -Renata Coura-&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/7654454727244088708-4851846392550883274?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/4851846392550883274/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=4851846392550883274' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/4851846392550883274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/4851846392550883274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/08/quando-falamos-nos-comunicamos-quando.html' title='Universo Particular'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJZ8q_zscmI/AAAAAAAAADg/7ArA6a9Q1wo/s72-c/sdg.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-8520958032393844807</id><published>2008-08-03T17:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T18:42:26.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ilusion...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJZan25WcHI/AAAAAAAAADQ/wSeYIcHNgwY/s1600-h/145163443_1f1b453236.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230467658034868338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJZan25WcHI/AAAAAAAAADQ/wSeYIcHNgwY/s320/145163443_1f1b453236.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;''Talvez essa seja a única forma de suportar a vida: iludir-se constantemente.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas as ilusões sobrevivem até desafiarem a realidade e quando isso acontece, é necessário criar mais ilusões.Infelizmente, hoje eu sou um homem de pouca fé.Eu não consigo enxergar sonhos. Não posso viver uma vida de eternas possibilidades.Não posso viver uma vida que está sempre no amanhã. ''&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Autor Desconhecido&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-8520958032393844807?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/8520958032393844807/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=8520958032393844807' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/8520958032393844807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/8520958032393844807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/08/ilusion.html' title='Ilusion...'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJZan25WcHI/AAAAAAAAADQ/wSeYIcHNgwY/s72-c/145163443_1f1b453236.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-7399895472839915896</id><published>2008-08-03T16:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-04T17:28:57.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Joker...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJZIjbdD-RI/AAAAAAAAADI/eyX-_8srAME/s1600-h/2694312645_09c333b112.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230447790739683602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJZIjbdD-RI/AAAAAAAAADI/eyX-_8srAME/s320/2694312645_09c333b112.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Não sei ao certo o que aconteceu. Às vezes me lembro de algumas&lt;br /&gt;coisas, às vezes não me lembro de nada... Se é para ter um passado, prefiro que&lt;br /&gt;seja um passado com múltiplas escolhas."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           (O Coringa, "A Piada Mortal",&lt;br /&gt;1988)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-7399895472839915896?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/7399895472839915896/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=7399895472839915896' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/7399895472839915896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/7399895472839915896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/08/joker.html' title='The Joker...'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJZIjbdD-RI/AAAAAAAAADI/eyX-_8srAME/s72-c/2694312645_09c333b112.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-9022868156917336056</id><published>2008-08-03T15:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T16:09:05.355-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Travel....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJY6IqIpJUI/AAAAAAAAADA/rtHvFIxnhEk/s1600-h/blogg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230431937661314370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJY6IqIpJUI/AAAAAAAAADA/rtHvFIxnhEk/s320/blogg.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;'' Na minha opinião, existem duas categorias principais de viajantes : os que viajam para fugir e os que viajam para buscar.''&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Érico Veríssimo-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://br.youtube.com/watch?v=aK9a780g_YU"&gt;http://br.youtube.com/watch?v=aK9a780g_YU&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-9022868156917336056?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/9022868156917336056/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=9022868156917336056' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/9022868156917336056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/9022868156917336056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/08/travel.html' title='Travel....'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJY6IqIpJUI/AAAAAAAAADA/rtHvFIxnhEk/s72-c/blogg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-5434638861879546458</id><published>2008-08-03T14:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T15:16:55.805-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feel</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJYseMzeGlI/AAAAAAAAAC4/orIsfQ9etw8/s1600-h/borboleta.bmp000000000.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230416914582215250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJYseMzeGlI/AAAAAAAAAC4/orIsfQ9etw8/s320/borboleta.bmp000000000.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Que importa que o poeta finja, quando jamais digo o que sinto?...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; Sincero choro, sincero canto dos tempos em que o tinha; agora esta vida não mais caminha, suspensa em confesso desencanto.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; Consomem-me os pensamentos, estes infelizes desalentos que têm aspirado o meu tempo e cuspido-o enquanto pó. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Quero que a minha vida não me obrigue mais a permanecer só, a desistir quando apenas desejava sentir...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-5434638861879546458?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/5434638861879546458/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=5434638861879546458' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/5434638861879546458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/5434638861879546458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/08/feel.html' title='Feel'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJYseMzeGlI/AAAAAAAAAC4/orIsfQ9etw8/s72-c/borboleta.bmp000000000.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-8080727207848701017</id><published>2008-08-03T14:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T21:55:00.579-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJYldlxtu6I/AAAAAAAAACw/rpezGu4wVeo/s1600-h/Awesome-3D-Art19.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230409207524473762" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJYldlxtu6I/AAAAAAAAACw/rpezGu4wVeo/s320/Awesome-3D-Art19.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não cobiço nem disputo os teus olhos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;não estou sequer à espera que me deixes ver através dos teus olhos &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;nem sei tão pouco se quero ver o que vêem e do modo como vêem os teus olhos &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nada do que possas ver me levará a ver e a pensar contigo &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;se eu não for capaz de aprender a ver pelos meus olhos e a pensar comigo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não me digas como se caminha e por onde é o caminho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;deixa-me simplesmente acompanhar-te quando eu quiser &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Se o caminho dos teus passos estiver iluminado&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;pela mais cintilante das estrelas que espreitam as noites e os dias&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;mesmo que tu me percas e eu te perca &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;algures na caminhada certamente nos reencontraremos &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não me expliques como deverei ser &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;quando um dia as circunstâncias quiserem que eu me encontre &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;no espaço e no tempo de condições que tu entendes e dominas &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Semeia-te como és e oferece-te simplesmente à colheita de todas as horas &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não me prendas as mãos &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;não faças delas instrumento dócil de inspirações que ainda não vivi &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Deixa-me arriscar o barro talvez impróprio &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;na oficina onde ganham forma e paixão todos os sonhos que antecipam o futuro &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;E não me obrigues a ler os livros que eu ainda não adivinhei&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;nem queiras que eu saiba o que ainda não sou capaz de interrogar &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Protege-me das incursões obrigatórias que sufocam o prazer da descoberta &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;e com o silêncio (intimamente sábio) das tuas palavras e dos teus gestos &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;ajuda-me serenamente a ler e a escrever a minha própria vida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;-- Junior--&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-8080727207848701017?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/8080727207848701017/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=8080727207848701017' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/8080727207848701017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/8080727207848701017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/08/no-cobio-nem-disputo-os-teus-olhos-no.html' title=''/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SJYldlxtu6I/AAAAAAAAACw/rpezGu4wVeo/s72-c/Awesome-3D-Art19.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7654454727244088708.post-2741357969971625422</id><published>2008-08-03T12:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T12:27:59.759-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sonhos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lagrimas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coraçao'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='estrelas'/><title type='text'>Coração</title><content type='html'>As vezes, quando estamos tão tristes, nossos sonhos caem no chão como pedaços de estrelas que pouco a pouco se apagam. Nosso coração chora em silêncio para não fazer ruido. &lt;strong&gt;Os olhos do coração veem mais do que a vista nos permite e quando as lágrimas caem gelam todo o corpo e o coração, de tanto amar, se converte em gelo para não sofrer mais, para não chorar. Mas ele está equivocado!&lt;/strong&gt; No final, vai ter alguem pra acender a chama da sua alma, que derreta o gelo do seu coração que a dor formou no seu interior e se voltar ao começo, se dará conta que ficaram milhões de estrelas e que cada uma é um sonho por cumprir, ainda que algumas se apaguem, haverá muitas que começarão a brilhar e tambem se dará conta que tem estrelas, mas a luz não é mais que um eco, um resto do que algum dia foi uma verdadeira luz mais agora já não existem. Você decide no que acreditar, só não abandone seus sonhos, os únicos que te salvarão do vazio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://desenholegall.blogspot.com/2007/11/vetor-by-corao-dulce-mara-as-vezes.html"&gt;http://desenholegall.blogspot.com/2007/11/vetor-by-corao-dulce-mara-as-vezes.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7654454727244088708-2741357969971625422?l=renatzcoura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/feeds/2741357969971625422/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7654454727244088708&amp;postID=2741357969971625422' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/2741357969971625422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7654454727244088708/posts/default/2741357969971625422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://renatzcoura.blogspot.com/2008/08/corao.html' title='Coração'/><author><name>Renata Coura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13426798899273811050</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5fcUARhn6Fw/SKhb2PJSGQI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tZM9SVjntSs/S220/DSC00116.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
