Ir al contenido principal

Citando a sarita

Muchas cosas me admiran en este mundo; esto prueba que mi alma debe pertenecer a la clase vulgar, al justo medio de las almas; sólo a las muy superiores o a las muy estúpidas les es dado no admirarse de nada. Para aquéllas no hay cosa que valga algo; para éstas no hay cosa que valga nada. Colocada la mía a igual distancia de las unas y de las otras, confieso que vivo todo de admiración, y estoy tanto más distante de ellas cuanto menos concibo que se pueda vivir sin admirar. Cuando en un día de esos en que un insomnio prolongado o un contratiempo de la víspera preparan al hombre a la meditación, me paro a considerar el destino del mundo; cuando me veo rodando dentro de él con mis semejantes por los espacios imaginarios, sin que sepa nadie para qué ni adónde; cuando veo nacer a todos para morir y morir sólo por haber nacido; cuando veo la verdad igualmente distante de todos los puntos del orbe donde se le anda buscando, y la felicidad siempre en casa del vecino, a juicio de cada uno; cuando reflexiono que no se le ve el fin a este cuadro halagüeño, que, según todas las probabilidades, tampoco tuvo principio; cuando pregunto a todos y me responde cada cual quejándose de su suerte; cuando contemplo que la vida es un amasijo de contradicciones, de llanto, de enfermedades, de errores, de culpas y de arrepentimientos, me admiro de varias cosas. Primera, del gran poder del Ser Supremo, que haciendo marchar el mundo de un modo dado, ha podido hacer que todos tengan deseos diferentes y encontrados, que no suceda más que una sola cosa a la vez, y que todos queden descontentos. Segunda, de su gran sabiduría en hacer corta la vida. Y tercera, en fin, y de ésta me asombro más que de las otras todavía, de ese apego que todos tienen, sin embargo, a esta vida tan mala. Esto último bastaría a confundir a un ateo, si un ateo, al serlo, no diese ya claras muestras de no tener su cerebro organizado para el convencimiento, porque sólo un Dios, y un Dios todopoderoso, podía hacer amar una cosa como la vida.



Es una cita enorme o un post que me gustó... lo que quieran.

Comentarios

Entradas populares de este blog

It was just another time

It was a moan, it was her breathing.  It was the end of innocence.  It was not only the curiosity of the time,  it was the hidden feeling behind.  It was just a kiss, why not?  It was just the fifth bottle of champagne.  The good times need the best liquor.  It was then just a try.  Just her hand in her hand,  it was just a witness surprised.  It was just a moment to stop,  it was just a time to look at the eyes.  It was then the next song,  it was a weird time.  It was another kiss in the eyes.  It was dancing together,  it was falling behind.  It was just another kiss, then another one. It was that electric feeling,  knowing that something is going to end bad.  It was just the delicacy of the moment,  it was just a time.  It was not passionate or wild,  it was curiosity and discovery chance.  It was touching here a...

Useless

I asked a poet to write about you, in the middle of London, next to the river. It was announced he could write anything on paper, at any rate, all the times I wanted. I told him who you were. I used my best words to describe your soft and shiny hair. I spoke about the darkness of those eyes, the strength living in their colour and the power they have to look. I tried to detail the delicacy of your nose and the softness of your lips. And I stopped there and came back in the sensations you were provoking. I had no words for the miracle of your smile. It was automatic; it should be there. I went down to your neck, soft and clean, always smelling like the sweetest perfume that makes me feel lost. Then your shoulders, then your hands then your breast. I got crazy of telling him about the miracles living in the waist and the storms you provoke in your hips. And then I went on. And then I couldn't stop. Your legs, the way you walk and the incredible sensations you were producing...

If you were another piece of words

I would be worried, sad, bitter.  If you were another piece of words.  I would be desperate in the middle of loneliness. Craziest paragraphs would be the centre of my anxiety. If you were another piece of words. I would build the perfect world in one line. Give it to you in a paper. I would find a thousand of ways of solving problems  Put each one next to your nice hair. If you were another piece of words I would not ask you to believe,  To take the risk of what you feel,  to embrace the  best moments of your life. I would be desperate finding the wrongs I would be crazy counting the lies. If you were another piece of words. I would test now my new theory,  Write you six stories, three arrangements, two rhymes. After the word line 76 you would begin to vanish. At the 100th line for sure you would be gone. If you were another piece of words, You could open a new post, Be the secret reason for someone to read Find a new lover or maybe ten,  I wouldn...