Francisco José Gregório de Andrade

O meu coração está no meu bolso, é Poemas de Pierre Réverdy.

Provérbios, Antigo Testamento, PV, 21:16

Provérbios, PV, 21:16, Quem se desvia do caminho do entendimento repousará na congregação dos mortos.

Salmos, Antigo Testamento, SL, 139:4

Salmos, SL, 139:4, A palavra ainda nem chegou à minha língua, e tu, Senhor, já a conheces toda.

Números, Antigo Testamento, NM, 21:4

Números, NM, 21:4, Então os israelitas partiram do monte Hor, pelo caminho do mar Vermelho, para rodear a terra de Edom. Mas o povo se tornou impaciente no caminho

⁠Eu estou mirando mais alto, bem mais alto, porque chegou o nosso momento.

A razão escraviza todas as mentes que não são suficientemente fortes para a dominarem.

Marcos, Novo Testamento, MC, 16:10

Marcos, MC, 16:10, E, partindo ela, foi anunciá-lo àqueles que, tendo sido companheiros de Jesus, estavam tristes e choravam.

II Reis, Antigo Testamento, 2RS, 21:15

II Reis, 2RS, 21:15, Porque fizeram o que era mau aos meus olhos e me provocaram à ira, desde o dia em que os pais deles saíram do Egito até o dia de hoje.

I stand in the ring in the dead city and tie on the red shoes. Everything that was calm is mine, the watch with an ant walking, the toes, lined up like dogs, the stove long before it boils toads, the parlor, white in winter, long before flies, the doe lying down on moss, long before the bullet. I tie on the red shoes. They are not mine. They are my mother’s. Her mother’s before. Handed down like an heirloom but hidden like shameful letters. The house and the street where they belong are hidden and all the women, too, are hidden. All those girls who wore the red shoes, each boarded a train that would not stop. Stations flew by like suitors and would not stop. They all danced like trout on the hook. They were played with. They tore off their ears like safety pins. Their arms fell off them and became hats. Their heads rolled off and sang down the street. And their feet – oh God, their feet in the market place - their feet, those two beetles, ran for the corner and then danced forth as if they were proud. Surely, people exclaimed, surely they are mechanical. Otherwise… But the feet went on. The feet could not stop. They were wound up like a cobra that sees you. They were elastic pulling itself in two. They were islands during an earthquake. They were ships colliding and going down. Never mind you and me. They could not listen. They could not stop. What they did was the death dance. What they did would do them in.

Solidão não cura com aspirina.