IHV: in homo, veritas

croon, v.i., v.t. 1. to sing or hum in a soft, soothing voice -n. 2. the act or sound of crooning -n. 3. croon/er, e. g., Manuel aka Medea Tangerine / Medeo Mandarino / Beso insaciable en mudanza a Ceres, on "How to live as a found 21st century crooner" 4. to love an angel with silver wings like I do: a ciegas, en Braille, como quieras

13.2.06

I was removing the sleep from your eyes...

Mis frases favoritas de The Dreamers, dirigida por Bernardo Bertolucci…
¡Qué buen actor es Michael Pitt!

(Baby, thank you for the greatest selection of movies ever… Thank you for being my first love. My great love. My great lover… My Valentino)

Inspiration is like a baby. It does not choose a nice, seemly tour to enter the world. It has no consideration for the poor poets, I know. But when it does come, when it deigns to come, then you know it is…

The more you look at everything, suddenly you realize that there is some sort of cosmic harmony of shapes and sizes.

When we look around us, what is it what we see? Complete chaos. Yet, viewed from above, viewed as it were by God, everything suddenly fits together…

There’s not such thing as love. There’s only proofs of love.

A petition is a poem. A poem is a petition.

Other people’s parents are always nicer than our own. Yet, our own grandparents are always nicer than other people’s.

Everybody’s got a father… But the fact that God doesn’t exist doesn’t mean he can take his place
(I do not agree with the second part of the sentence: God's existence is not a fact to be discussed like that).

The difference between Keaton and Chaplin is the difference between prose and poetry, between aristocrat and tramp, between eccentricity and mysticism, between man as a machine as man as an animal.

2 Comentarios:

A la/s lunes, febrero 13, 2006 9:45:00 p.m., Anonymous Anónimo dijo...

jejeje, Michael Pitt ME ATERRA en The dreamers...
just terrible!
like, Gee, TRY TO ACT!!

 
A la/s lunes, febrero 13, 2006 10:58:00 p.m., Blogger M dijo...

El problema son los ojos...
No son creíbles.
Vemos a un chico de 19 años de los noventa en el París convulsionado de 1968...

 

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