<?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-5358108688372718149</id><updated>2012-01-12T22:15:14.720-02:00</updated><title type='text'>The little butterfly</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-8751750319626714640</id><published>2011-11-25T22:32:00.007-02:00</published><updated>2011-11-25T22:58:49.188-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Passos lentos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xs6DMDrL45s/TtA3o3JxZcI/AAAAAAAAAvk/_Sqn0pMdlvw/s1600/Between_Darkness_and_Wonder2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xs6DMDrL45s/TtA3o3JxZcI/AAAAAAAAAvk/_Sqn0pMdlvw/s320/Between_Darkness_and_Wonder2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679100305253426626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Vagando em meus pensamentos nesta noite solitária e confusa, percebi que posso interpretar meus sonhos, minha história, meu destino, recomeçar, dar outra chance a mim e aos meus sentimentos.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Pois, de que me adianta amar tão intensamente se me restam apenas migalhas de tudo que almejei e construí com tanta dedicação e entrega.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Há dias venho caminhando nessa estrada solitária, de desejos reprimidos, saudades que simplesmente crescem dentro de mim  e se afogam em meio a tantas lágrimas de frustração.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Eu que um dia achei que jamais pensaria dessa forma tão desiludida, me vejo jogada aos quatro ventos pensando em qual programação é melhor para alguém que vive sozinha;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Eu que pensava que o meu amor por ser verdadeiro transformaria as pessoas e assim seríamos felizes para sempre;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Me encontro sem vontade de chegar em casa, diminuindo meus passos pela estrada pra ver se meu sofrimento diminui junto a velocidade do meu percusso. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Queria ter coragem suficiente pra eliminar de vez todas as tristezas da minha vida. &lt;/span&gt;Já não sei ao certo até quando aguentarei viver nesse mundo silencioso, que tenho vivido.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;By Nicácia Souza&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&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/5358108688372718149-8751750319626714640?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/8751750319626714640/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2011/11/passos-lentos.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/8751750319626714640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/8751750319626714640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2011/11/passos-lentos.html' title='Passos lentos'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xs6DMDrL45s/TtA3o3JxZcI/AAAAAAAAAvk/_Sqn0pMdlvw/s72-c/Between_Darkness_and_Wonder2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-338188237545665858</id><published>2010-07-12T18:28:00.007-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T21:13:15.905-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Crise dos 7 anos</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Já enfrentei inúmeros obstáculos nessa vida,  capaz de derrubar qualquer um, que não se sentisse forte o suficiente para seguir em frente, mais nada comparável à essa tal crise dos 7 anos. Que até então, era desconhecida para mim, mas que agora repudio arduamente.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Questionava diariamente que bendita crise seria essa, que todos falam? Infelizmente, já não tenho motivos para questionar, eis eu aqui passando por esta tão falada crise.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;É lamentável ver que todos esses anos de dedicação, amor e respeito estão sendo transformados aos poucos em momentos tristes e dolorosos.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tento ser paciente, compreensiva e carinhosa, mesmo sabendo que isso não está correto, pois não é deixando para amanhã e nem tapando o sol com a peneira que as coisas vão voltar ao normal.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mas, ao mesmo tempo me sinto sozinha nessa luta contínua, sempre que tento trazer o diálogo para nossa relação dou com os burros fora d'água e de resto ainda sou mal compreendida.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Queria não ter que questionar, queria apenas te amar.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Já não sei até quando durará essa tal crise dos 7 anos porém, espero sair ilesa e com você do meu lado, para que juntos possamos dar continuidade a nossa caminhada.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Nicácia Souza&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&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/5358108688372718149-338188237545665858?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/338188237545665858/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2010/07/crise-dos-7-anos.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/338188237545665858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/338188237545665858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2010/07/crise-dos-7-anos.html' title='Crise dos 7 anos'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-582618739755967872</id><published>2010-01-24T13:12:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T21:05:49.752-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ausência</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Durante dias espero incansavelmente o telefone tocar, trazendo-me uma notícia boa ou simplesmente uma palavra de carinho.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Durante dias espero ansiosamente por um beijo teu, um carinho teu, um abraço somente TEU.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Durante dias sonho com noites de amor na esperança de torná-las realidade.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Sei que é complicado falar sobre sentimentos e da falta deles, mais uma coisa digo com total certeza, quando há ausência de reciprocidade diária, a inexistência de brilho em tudo que fazes torna-se freqüente. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;(By Nicácia Souza)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&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/5358108688372718149-582618739755967872?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/582618739755967872/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2010/01/ausencia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/582618739755967872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/582618739755967872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2010/01/ausencia.html' title='Ausência'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-8398288667506748793</id><published>2010-01-02T21:45:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T21:58:12.288-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Amadurecimento</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 15.0pt"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;Não foram poucas as vezes que me dirigi a este caderno para em algumas linhas desabafar minhas mágoas e frustrações.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;Descobri cedo o significado de amar, não questionei, retruquei nem muito menos fingi a existência deste sentimento em mim.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;Simplesmente me entreguei de corpo e alma. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 15.0pt"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;Desde o primeiro instante que meus olhos fisgaram os teus, senti que era minha chance de ser feliz.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;Confesso que em pouco tempo provei que não estava tão certa assim, não era o conto de fadas que eu imaginei. Não me bastava ter alguém apenas para satisfazer os meus desejos, queria muito mais. Sempre o amei com muita solidez e lealdade. Mesmo diante de tantas tristezas e decepções diárias, não conseguia sentir raiva. Tentei inúmeras vezes transformar o meu amor em raiva, mais o meu coração sempre relutou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 15.0pt"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;Noites mal dormidas, fotos rasgadas, textos rabiscados, telefones apagados, dores de cotovelo, fizeram parte da minha história. Chorei, sorri, briguei, fiz declarações [...] na nossa história não houve somente flores, espinhos também surgiram, foram destruídos, outros permaneceram durante um bom tempo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 15.0pt"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;Durante esse tempo conturbado, passei por momentos de muito prazer, dos quais me faziam delirar, suspirar [...] frutos que colhi do meu amor e da minha sinceridade. Jamais permiti que a raiva tomasse conta de mim, só o amor permanecia. Era esse amor que me dava forças, que erguia minha cabeça no dia seguinte. E eu pensava comigo: há cada dia vivido, uma esperança renovada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10.0pt;color:#AA77AA;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 15.0pt"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;Passei por momentos de críticas, solidão, desprezo. Ouvi palavras duras de pessoas que nunca imaginei ouvir, entre outras coisas. Mais nada me fazia desistir desse amor. A cada nascer do sol sentia dentro de mim que um dia chegaria a minha hora de ser feliz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10.0pt;color:#AA77AA;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 15.0pt"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;Ouvir "te amo" era como alguém em busca de um oásis no meio de um deserto. Em nome desse desejo lutei.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;Enfim, hoje digo a real sensação de ouvir te amo.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);  font-weight: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:PT-BRfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11.0pt;color:#FF6666;"&gt;Para muitos pode não significar nada, mais para mim é o amadurecimento da alma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;(By Nicácia Souza)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5358108688372718149-8398288667506748793?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/8398288667506748793/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2010/01/amadurecimento.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/8398288667506748793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/8398288667506748793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2010/01/amadurecimento.html' title='Amadurecimento'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-749789068893655711</id><published>2009-12-15T21:45:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T21:06:12.649-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; " &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;PREPOTÊNCIA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Pensar ser o maior ou melhor&lt;br /&gt;Recusar a opinião dos demais&lt;br /&gt;Enxergar só o próprio umbigo&lt;br /&gt;Perguntar somente ao espelho teu&lt;br /&gt;Ouvir unicamente a tua razão&lt;br /&gt;Ter mania de tudo ser professor&lt;br /&gt;Êxito dos outros aplaudir jamais&lt;br /&gt;Negar a importância de um amigo&lt;br /&gt;Considerar teu o que a vida te deu&lt;br /&gt;Ignorar cada erro como uma lição&lt;br /&gt;Achar que a vida é só esta estação...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; " &gt;(Wilson Madrid o Poeta Azul)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/5358108688372718149-749789068893655711?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/749789068893655711/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/12/prepotencia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/749789068893655711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/749789068893655711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/12/prepotencia.html' title=''/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-6069275972579375589</id><published>2009-10-24T18:15:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T18:50:23.862-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Os Olhos da alma</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SuN0cFnVgBI/AAAAAAAAAsE/jPROBp-2yGM/s1600-h/blog+ni.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 283px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SuN0cFnVgBI/AAAAAAAAAsE/jPROBp-2yGM/s320/blog+ni.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396284804412309522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Durante toda minha vida, ouvi alguém falar que no momento em que começamos a trabalhar, adquirimos experiências das quais jamais serão esquecidas. Nunca dei muita importância pra este comentário. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Comecei há trabalhar faz três semanas, confesso que estou entusiasmada com essa minha nova fase. Apesar de ser um tempo curto, considero-me autorizada para confirmar o comentário acima.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Na terceira semana, passei por algo que não consigo tirar de minha cabeça. Pode não significar nada para vocês, porém há mim, causou um impacto emocional profundo e uma vontade exacerbada de viver.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Na terça, saí empolgada para mais um dia de trabalho, hoje seria uma oportunidade única, cobriria um evento importantíssimo. O palestrante era uma pessoa renomada na área da geografia e essa seria minha oportunidade de mostrar meu potencial. Entretanto, algo aconteceu na abertura do evento que, de fato conseguiu prender minha atenção, eram pessoas lindas, com sorrisos encantadores, vozes aveludadas, numa sincronia perfeita, porém havia um detalhe do qual não considero importante, pois parecia mínimo diante de tanta beleza.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Todos os componentes possuíam deficiência visual,alguns não enxergavam por completo, outros ainda conseguiam ver direções e cores, mesmo que não tão perfeitas.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Diante desta apresentação pude notar como somos pequenos, ingênuos e imaturos. Ao acharmos que a vida não é bela, que não possuímos potencial para lutar por aquilo que almejamos, que não temos capacidade de enxergar o outro como ele é, mais sim como queremos que ele seja.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Moral da história:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Muitas vezes, mesmo sem enxergar o colorido das coisas, podemos criar o nosso próprio colorido. E assim, dar a nossa vida um sabor.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;(By Nicácia Souza)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6666;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&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/5358108688372718149-6069275972579375589?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/6069275972579375589/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/10/durante-toda-minha-vida-ouvi-alguem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/6069275972579375589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/6069275972579375589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/10/durante-toda-minha-vida-ouvi-alguem.html' title='Os Olhos da alma'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SuN0cFnVgBI/AAAAAAAAAsE/jPROBp-2yGM/s72-c/blog+ni.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-5733951037919885567</id><published>2009-10-19T21:53:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T21:06:27.123-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Certas palavras</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Certas palavras não podem ser ditas em qualquer lugar e hora qualquer.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Estritamente reservadas para companheiros de confiança,devem ser sacralmente pronunciadas em tom muito especial lá onde a polícia dos adultos não adivinha nem alcança.&lt;br /&gt;Entretanto são palavras simples:definem partes do corpo, movimentos, atos do viver que só os grandes se permitem e a nós é defendido por sentença dos séculos.&lt;br /&gt;E tudo é proibido. Então, falamos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Carlos Drummond de Andrade)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5358108688372718149-5733951037919885567?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/5733951037919885567/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/10/certas-palavras.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/5733951037919885567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/5733951037919885567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/10/certas-palavras.html' title='Certas palavras'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-3271261451569825734</id><published>2009-10-19T17:32:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T21:37:41.769-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Rabiscos</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Inúmeras vezes acordei assustada durante a noite, questionando Deus e a mim mesma, sobre meu dia-dia.&lt;br /&gt;Diariamente surgem incertezas na minha cabeça, das quais se tornam mais complexas e conseqüentemente mais difíceis de serem solucionadas.&lt;br /&gt;É tão fácil julgar o próximo, difícil é ser melhor que ele.&lt;br /&gt;Não julgue os defeitos dos outros, enxergue os seus.&lt;br /&gt;Antes de proferir qualquer palavra, pense mil vezes, pois todas elas possuem significados, muitos deles desagradáveis.&lt;br /&gt;O cansaço surge com a repetição. Agradeço todos os dias por ser privilegiada em ter Deus como meu melhor amigo, tê-lo presente em todos os momentos da minha vida. Confesso de coração aberto todas as minhas mágoas, frustrações, aflições [...]&lt;br /&gt;Deus é fiel, disso não tenho dúvidas.&lt;br /&gt;Enfrentei obstáculos, dos quais imaginei ser impossível ultrapassá-los, desanimei incansáveis vezes, porém sempre tive certezas dentro de mim e até hoje nunca deixei de lutar por nenhuma delas. Se um dia eu perder, não vai ser por falta de tentativas.&lt;br /&gt;Falando assim, até parece que já vivi muito. Entretanto, digo com certeza absoluta, posso não ter idade suficiente, porém durante meus 22 anos me considero uma mulher responsável, determinada e certa do que quero.&lt;br /&gt;Independente de passar por momentos de falta de carinho, jamais deixei que meu coração derramasse lágrimas que não pudessem ser enxugadas. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Guardo todos os momentos como aprendizado.&lt;br /&gt;Vivo cada dia como se fosse o último, com sabedoria e determinação. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O AMOR jamais deixará de florescer no meu peito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;( By Nicácia Souza)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5358108688372718149-3271261451569825734?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/3271261451569825734/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/10/inumeras-vezes-acordei-assustada.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/3271261451569825734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/3271261451569825734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/10/inumeras-vezes-acordei-assustada.html' title='Rabiscos'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-1960714488767046877</id><published>2009-09-30T12:03:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T21:06:46.847-03:00</updated><title type='text'>É engraçado</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SsN1zArj7KI/AAAAAAAAArg/ew7eEhWzdHg/s1600-h/gatinho+pequenino.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387279098481732770" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SsN1zArj7KI/AAAAAAAAArg/ew7eEhWzdHg/s320/gatinho+pequenino.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;É engraçado como momentos consigam ser esquecidos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;É engraçado como as pessoas esquecem os conselhos recebidos &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;É engraçado como fazemos coisas sem pensar e depois nos arrependemos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;É engraçado como as pessoas não percebem que você precisa delas naquele exato momento&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;É engraçado como palavras afetuosas tem o poder de salvar o teu dia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;É engraçado como uma pessoa consegue te magoar, mesmo você implorando por carinho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;É engraçado...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;(By Nicácia Souza)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&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/5358108688372718149-1960714488767046877?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/1960714488767046877/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/09/e-engracado-como-momentos-consigam-ser.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/1960714488767046877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/1960714488767046877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/09/e-engracado-como-momentos-consigam-ser.html' title='É engraçado'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SsN1zArj7KI/AAAAAAAAArg/ew7eEhWzdHg/s72-c/gatinho+pequenino.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-4417010802136412730</id><published>2009-09-24T15:54:00.009-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T14:26:35.143-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Não tente prever seu futuro</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SrvGcq3ShaI/AAAAAAAAArY/weWuOnX0fAQ/s1600-h/estrada_futuro_abr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 276px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385115975296386466" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SrvGcq3ShaI/AAAAAAAAArY/weWuOnX0fAQ/s320/estrada_futuro_abr.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Prepotência nossa pensar que somos capazes de definir nosso futuro. Muitas vezes falamos: nunca farei isso, nunca passarei por aquilo, nunca deixarei chegar a esse ponto, nunca [...] &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Onde queremos chegar com esse pensamento ingênuo e imaturo?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Somos meros seres humanos, controlados por sentimentos, momentos e emoções. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não sabemos o dia de amanhã. Então, como podemos adivinhar se seremos ou não capazes de passar e de fazer?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Temos sim, o direito de fazer escolhas, porém, só o momento para nos dar respostas concretas e seguras.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hoje, obtenho respostas claras das minhas escolhas e diante mão confesso meu arrependimento, de um dia ter sido tão ingênua, a ponto de acreditar que seria capaz de adivinhar o meu futuro.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Uma coisa é certa: passamos por aquilo que procuramos.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sou feliz, porém, poderia ter sido muito mais, se tivesse pensado menos.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Nicácia Souza)&lt;/strong&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/5358108688372718149-4417010802136412730?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/4417010802136412730/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/09/prepotencia-nossa-pensar-que-somos.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/4417010802136412730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/4417010802136412730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/09/prepotencia-nossa-pensar-que-somos.html' title='Não tente prever seu futuro'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SrvGcq3ShaI/AAAAAAAAArY/weWuOnX0fAQ/s72-c/estrada_futuro_abr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-3106564992391260312</id><published>2009-09-15T18:47:00.007-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T21:07:08.967-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Auto-confiança Zero</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SrAS-2_VkbI/AAAAAAAAArQ/obuYv1aNONY/s1600-h/destino.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;Estou prestes a explodir, sabe aqueles dias em que você age da forma mais correta e coerente ou pelo menos da maneira que acredita ser. E, de repente, sem mais nem menos se depara com uma montanha de coisas desabando em cima da sua cabeça e você não tem a menor idéia de como resolver, pois nem sabe como tudo isso começou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;Meu dia estava tranquilo, amanheci disposta,com um sorriso estampado no rosto, tudo estava correndo as mil maravilhas. Quando, achei que não era capaz de resolver algo sozinha e fui pedir ajuda, ao invés de ficar quieta e ouvir a explicação, cai na besteira de tentar mais uma vez, resolver da minha maneira. Pensei: Tentarei mais uma vez, só mais uma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;O meu maior defeito é achar que preciso sempre de alguém para me ajudar, sempre acho que não tenho capacidade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;Sem auto-confiança não somos nada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;(By Nicácia Souza)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5358108688372718149-3106564992391260312?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/3106564992391260312/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/09/estou-prestes-explodir-sabe-aqueles.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/3106564992391260312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/3106564992391260312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/09/estou-prestes-explodir-sabe-aqueles.html' title='Auto-confiança Zero'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-509481702572887948</id><published>2009-09-13T16:14:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T17:22:14.838-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sinceridade X Franqueza</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/Sq1OB2SLyuI/AAAAAAAAArI/pkuzyUCjdlc/s1600-h/399.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 311px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381042923436231394" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/Sq1OB2SLyuI/AAAAAAAAArI/pkuzyUCjdlc/s320/399.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Inúmeras vezes somos pegos de surpresa, deixamos nosso coração falar mais alto, quando não devemos, falamos coisas que não deveria ser ditas naquele exato momento e como consequência, acabamos nos arrependendo, do ato não pensado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Já perdi as contas de quantas vezes, me deixei levar pela emoção e pelo entusiasmo em ajudar o próximo e por fim acabo levando a pior.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Sou pisciana com muito orgulho,vivo o meu signo com intensidade, sinceridade é o meu nome, confesso que sou capaz de machucar pessoas verbalmente na tentativa de alertá-la sobre algo de ruim, que a mesma não está conseguindo enxergar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;(By Nicácia Souza)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Entretanto, em muitos momentos de nossas vidas, nos deparamos com situações em que se torna difícil sermos tão claros e explícitos em nossa sinceridade, pois poderíamos estar magoando alguém e isso é algo que não queremos. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Quando somos sinceros, mesmo dizendo a verdade, sem usar de total franqueza, isto é, se reverlarmos a crua e nua totalidade da franqueza, não estamos mentindo, pois estamos expressando o nosso verdadeiro modo de pensar. Apenas estamos omitindo algumas particularidades que naquele momento poderiam magoar o outro, e não queremos que isso aconteça. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;É lógico que ninguém gosta de ser enganado, e portanto é importante conhecermos bem o outro para vermos quando poderemos ser totalmente sinceros com ele.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Por isso que eu digo nunca devemos falsear a verdade. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Só na franqueza, que é o MODO como expressamos nossa sinceridade, é que podemos poupar o outro , quando vemos que ele ainda não estar preparado para compreender a totalidade da verdade. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Não devemos mentir,apenas podemos omitir uma parte, e, aos pouquinhos, vamos conduzindo o pensamento daquela pessoa para que ela mesma, por si própria, possa amadurecer e vir, aos poucos, a aceitar a totalidade da verdade e da sinceridade. Isso será feito quando a mesma chegar oa seu tempo de amadurecimento e compreensão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;( Lúcia Lms - Recanto das letras)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&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/5358108688372718149-509481702572887948?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/509481702572887948/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/09/sinceridade-x-franqueza.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/509481702572887948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/509481702572887948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/09/sinceridade-x-franqueza.html' title='Sinceridade X Franqueza'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/Sq1OB2SLyuI/AAAAAAAAArI/pkuzyUCjdlc/s72-c/399.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-7749884682884184042</id><published>2009-09-09T21:05:00.008-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T21:07:26.346-03:00</updated><title type='text'>504</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SqkTHG2__QI/AAAAAAAAAq4/QdNxGAc3i04/s1600-h/amor+de+m%C3%A3e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379852242692078850" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SqkTHG2__QI/AAAAAAAAAq4/QdNxGAc3i04/s320/amor+de+m%C3%A3e.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SqhLLXCleKI/AAAAAAAAAqw/PcpEDcILZQ4/s1600-h/mamy+linda.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;Dia 03 de setembro chegou, eba!! Esperanças renasceram, o coração acelerou, mãos gelaram, lágrimas surgiram no cantinho dos olhos. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;Nosso corpo traduz o que a alma pensa. Os segundos iam passando e meus minutos diminuam, a felicidade e o medo tornavam mais frequentes dentro de mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;Não conseguia mudar a direção do meu olhar, cada minuto passado tornavam-se cada vez mais únicos e eternos. Confesso que senti medo de não poder exergá-la novamente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;Às 12h quando a enfermeira trouxe a maca, meu céu desabou, tentei disfarçar minha angústia o máximo que pude, porém não consegui conter minha emoção, lágrimas me entregaram.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;Sentia como se minha luz interior tivesse indo embora junto aquela maca. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;A tarde foi passando, o pôr do sol surgindo e uma felicidade tomava conta de mim novamente, sentia que a minha luz estava voltando.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;Por volta, das 17:30 surgiu um clarão na porta do 504 e uma alegria invadiu meu peito, imediatamente tive certeza de que ela voltara para iluminar minha vida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;Era minha querida mamãe, estava de volta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;Meu coração palpitava de tanta emoção. Em seguida, debruçei na janela e agradeci olhando para o céu: Deus obrigada pelo presente maravilhoso que me destes. Ei de ser digna, durante minha vida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;Mãe é uma só, dê valor enquanto há tempo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;Te amo mamãe!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;(By Nicácia Souza)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&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/5358108688372718149-7749884682884184042?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/7749884682884184042/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/09/504.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/7749884682884184042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/7749884682884184042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/09/504.html' title='504'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SqkTHG2__QI/AAAAAAAAAq4/QdNxGAc3i04/s72-c/amor+de+m%C3%A3e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-3768090802484243641</id><published>2009-08-02T19:37:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T14:28:02.984-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Soneto do Amor total</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SnYXq9lHGfI/AAAAAAAAApw/NaBkx-3Osnc/s1600-h/0088.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 231px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365502032910686706" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SnYXq9lHGfI/AAAAAAAAApw/NaBkx-3Osnc/s320/0088.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Amo-te tanto, meu amor...não cante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;O humano coração com mais verdade...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Amo-te como amigo e como amante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Numa sempre diversa realidade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Amo-te afim, de um calmo amor prestante &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;E te amo além, presente na saudade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Amo-te, enfim, com grande liberdade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Dentro da eternidade e a cada instante.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Amo-te como um bicho, simplesmente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;De um amor sem mistério e sem virtude&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Com um desejo maciço e permanente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;E de te amar assim, muito e amiúde&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;É que um dia em teu corpo de repente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Hei de morrer de amar mais do que pude.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;(Vinicius de Moraes)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5358108688372718149-3768090802484243641?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/3768090802484243641/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/08/soneto-do-amor-total.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/3768090802484243641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/3768090802484243641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/08/soneto-do-amor-total.html' title='Soneto do Amor total'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SnYXq9lHGfI/AAAAAAAAApw/NaBkx-3Osnc/s72-c/0088.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-8537792446730899153</id><published>2009-07-30T16:17:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T21:07:42.898-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Feliz dia do amigo (20/07)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SnHzBCEYvmI/AAAAAAAAApo/Zf_-ueT6pTw/s1600-h/poodles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364335830235659874" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SnHzBCEYvmI/AAAAAAAAApo/Zf_-ueT6pTw/s320/poodles.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;A palavra amigo é usada de maneira muito ampla pela maioria de nós.&lt;br /&gt;Apresentamos como amigos os colegas de escola ou de faculdade; os colegas de trabalho, os amigos que conosco praticam esporte, ou aqueles com quem nos relacionamos em várias atividades.&lt;br /&gt;E é bom que assim seja, pois ao chamarmos de amigos, de alguma forma os aceitamos, e passamos a tentar conviver bem com eles.&lt;br /&gt;Mas será que esses são os nossos verdadeiros amigos? Será que nós somos os verdadeiros amigos dessas pessoas?&lt;br /&gt;Nossos verdadeiros amigos têm uma real conexão conosco. São aqueles que realmente gostam de nós e de quem nós gostamos verdadeiramente.&lt;br /&gt;O verdadeiro amigo nos aceita como somos, mas não deixa de nos dar conselhos para que mudemos, sempre para melhor. E nós aceitamos esses conselhos porque sabemos que vêm de quem se importa conosco.&lt;br /&gt;O verdadeiro amigo se alegra com nossas alegrias, com nossos sucessos e torce pela realização de nossos sonhos.&lt;br /&gt;O verdadeiro amigo preocupa-se quando estamos tristes e, frente a situações difíceis para nós, está sempre disposto a ajudar.&lt;br /&gt;O verdadeiro amigo não precisa estar presente em nossas vidas todos os dias, mas sabemos que está ao nosso alcance quando sentirmos saudades, quando quisermos saber se ele está bem, ou quando precisarmos dele.&lt;br /&gt;Distâncias não encerram amizades sólidas, em uma época onde a comunicação é tão fácil. Mas, mesmo sem um contato constante, o sentimento de afeto não se abala.&lt;br /&gt;Tu te tornas eternamente responsável por aquilo que cativas.&lt;br /&gt;Se cativamos um amigo, então somos responsáveis por essa amizade. Devemos saber retribuir as atenções e o carinho recebidos, com a mesma dedicação.&lt;br /&gt;Afinal, a real amizade é como uma estrada de duas mãos: nos dois sentidos os sentimentos são semelhantes.&lt;br /&gt;Com o verdadeiro amigo temos a chance de praticar o real amor para com o próximo, ainda tão difícil de praticar com todos, como Jesus recomendou.&lt;br /&gt;Temos a chance de praticar o perdão, pois nosso caro amigo tem o direito de errar como qualquer ser humano o tem. E, se errar conosco, que o perdoemos, pois amanhã talvez sejamos nós a pedir perdão.&lt;br /&gt;Jesus e Seus apóstolos formaram um grupo de dedicados amigos. Muitos deles, sem se conhecerem previamente, desenvolveram, naqueles curtos três anos da pregação do Mestre, uma amizade que duraria até o fim de suas vidas.&lt;br /&gt;Quando, após a morte de Jesus, se viram aparentemente sozinhos, ajudaram-se mutuamente, deram forças uns aos outros para a dura missão que teriam pela frente.&lt;br /&gt;Amigos são verdadeiros presentes que Deus nos dá. Muitas vezes são antigos companheiros de jornada que reencontramos, para que continuemos juntos, nos apoiando nesta nova caminhada.&lt;br /&gt;Não busquemos quantidade, mas, sim, a qualidade, certos de que a verdadeira amizade deve ser cultivada e cuidada como algo de real valor em nossa vida, algo que não nos pode ser tirado, e que levaremos conosco eternamente.&lt;br /&gt;Um feliz dia dos amigos para vocês que considero meus amigos de verdade. AMO VOCÊS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;Beijão &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5358108688372718149-8537792446730899153?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/8537792446730899153/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/07/feliz-dia-do-amigo-2007.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/8537792446730899153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/8537792446730899153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/07/feliz-dia-do-amigo-2007.html' title='Feliz dia do amigo (20/07)'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SnHzBCEYvmI/AAAAAAAAApo/Zf_-ueT6pTw/s72-c/poodles.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-5246193877618961491</id><published>2009-07-15T14:37:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T14:29:23.866-03:00</updated><title type='text'>"Amigo" das noites</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/Sl4i9yP-JrI/AAAAAAAAAoo/-GTKjrLzbak/s1600-h/150px-Red_Wine_Glas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 280px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358759051473594034" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/Sl4i9yP-JrI/AAAAAAAAAoo/-GTKjrLzbak/s320/150px-Red_Wine_Glas.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;O líquido de cor profunda,sabores e aromas inigualáveis. Em alguns casos, utilizado como efeito protetivo para manter a saúde cardíaca.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Porém, quando utilizado de maneira exagerada,incorreta,transforma-se em destruição. E foi desta forma que o sumo de uva,mas conhecido como vinho tinto, começou à fazer parte indiretamente da minha vida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;O que era divertido, afrodisíaco,suave, tornou-se escuro, frustrante,pesado,cores atrativas que viraram traumáticas, das quais diariamente destroí momentos, transforma sorrisos em lágrimas, dias em noites, diálogos em monólogos, palavras de carinho em palavras duras, grosseiras, das quais esquecidas no dia seguinte por quem as disse, porém lembradas eternamente por quem as ouviu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Confio em ti e sei que és capaz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Com fé em Deus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;By Nicácia Souza&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/5358108688372718149-5246193877618961491?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/5246193877618961491/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/07/amigo-das-noites.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/5246193877618961491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/5246193877618961491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/07/amigo-das-noites.html' title='&quot;Amigo&quot; das noites'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/Sl4i9yP-JrI/AAAAAAAAAoo/-GTKjrLzbak/s72-c/150px-Red_Wine_Glas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-8192458000103302867</id><published>2009-07-07T16:56:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T11:58:27.688-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Fragmentos do teu corpo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SqkT54BmoVI/AAAAAAAAArA/M5-klkDwrVM/s1600-h/eu-queria-ser-amor-geisa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 227px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379853114883350866" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SqkT54BmoVI/AAAAAAAAArA/M5-klkDwrVM/s320/eu-queria-ser-amor-geisa.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SlO2qZ0mDBI/AAAAAAAAAog/Dli4bKUZyYw/s1600-h/sensualll.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sua voz me toma por dentro&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Teu rosto reascende em meu pensamento&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Teus cabelos cacheados tão macios, reluzem em meu corpo, colados ao suor do nosso prazer.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tuas mãos me decifram, com tal intensidade que me faz tremer [...]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;By Nicácia Souza&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&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/5358108688372718149-8192458000103302867?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/8192458000103302867/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/07/fragmentos-do-teu-corpo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/8192458000103302867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/8192458000103302867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/07/fragmentos-do-teu-corpo.html' title='Fragmentos do teu corpo'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SqkT54BmoVI/AAAAAAAAArA/M5-klkDwrVM/s72-c/eu-queria-ser-amor-geisa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-4730950112177641413</id><published>2009-07-03T14:38:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T21:08:05.928-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Nas flores</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/Sk5N-mZOUDI/AAAAAAAAAno/3ILIUnn46Kg/s1600-h/borboleta-5137.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354302744843669554" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/Sk5N-mZOUDI/AAAAAAAAAno/3ILIUnn46Kg/s320/borboleta-5137.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;In Flowers (James Blunt)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Nas Flores&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Você é uma borboleta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;E quer estar nas flores&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;E quer conhecerDalai Lama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;E alcançar o Nirvana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Porque eu a amo e você me ama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Eu quero apenas estar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Nas flores&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Com você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Eu sou uma criança&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;E eu quero ser um herói em seus braços&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Qualquer idiota pode ver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Que não é nada novo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Que eu preciso de você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Porque eu a amo e você me ama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Eu quero apenas que veja&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;A criança em mim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Há uma borboleta em meu coração&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Que vive em mim enquanto estamos separados&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Mas é preferível você permanecer comigo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Porque eu a amo e você me ama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;E eu quero apenas que você seja a borboleta em mim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5358108688372718149-4730950112177641413?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/4730950112177641413/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/07/nas-flores.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/4730950112177641413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/4730950112177641413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/07/nas-flores.html' title='Nas flores'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/Sk5N-mZOUDI/AAAAAAAAAno/3ILIUnn46Kg/s72-c/borboleta-5137.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5358108688372718149.post-5743575062079266181</id><published>2009-06-06T22:19:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T21:09:01.162-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Faz falta.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SisVvqjPehI/AAAAAAAAAnU/44N4HfzJJcc/s1600-h/coisa+%2B+linda.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344389291425364498" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SisVvqjPehI/AAAAAAAAAnU/44N4HfzJJcc/s320/coisa+%2B+linda.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;strong&gt;&lt;span &gt;Acordei pela manhã com o coração apertado, mãos trêmulas, sentindo uma vontade louca de chorar, confesso que fiquei sem entender.Procurei de várias formas decifrar minha agonia,aflição e logo descobrí que só havia uma resposta para isso, SAUDADE.&lt;br /&gt;Saudade do colo da minha mamãe,do abraço apertado do meu pai, dos sorrisos sinceros dos meus sobrinhos, das conversas com meus irmãos [...]&lt;br /&gt;Imediatamente corri em direção ao telefone e liguei, com esperança de ouvir a voz mais doce, sincera, amiga, cúmplice,cheia de amor, que só a nossa mãe possui.&lt;br /&gt;Agora sim , estou de alma restaurada, forças recarregadas, coração leve.&lt;br /&gt;Mãe é sempre nosso melhor remédio.&lt;br /&gt;"O tempo não pode arrancar do pássaro, a sua asa". ( Outono em Nova York)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5358108688372718149-5743575062079266181?l=ninisouza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/feeds/5743575062079266181/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/06/faz-falta.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/5743575062079266181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5358108688372718149/posts/default/5743575062079266181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ninisouza.blogspot.com/2009/06/faz-falta.html' title='Faz falta.'/><author><name>Nicácia Souza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16342432870480866901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/TMIQwp-tE9I/AAAAAAAAAuI/srn5RAB63ps/S220/Twitter+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_if2Y1uiZbtM/SisVvqjPehI/AAAAAAAAAnU/44N4HfzJJcc/s72-c/coisa+%2B+linda.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
