Do Fato Ao Acaso

Definitely maybe

"April: For my 13th birthday, I wanted a pair of gold stud earrings, and instead my dad bought me a hardcover copy of Jane Eyre. And inside, he wrote a beautiful inscription, which I could care less about at the time seeing as I was so pissed about the earrings, which was tragic as it turned out 'cause it was the last present he ever gave me.

Will: What do you mean?

April: He died three weeks later in a car accident.

Will: Jesus. That's awful. I'm sorry.

April: Have you ever read it?

Will: No.

April: I read it every year or two. Each time it's different. It tells me different things. Anyhow, when I went away to college, my mom sold our house and somewhere along the way, Jane Eyre got lost. Now, every time I pass a second-hand bookstore, I look for the copy that my dad bought me for my birthday. I know I'll never find it. It's stupid, but it's become this, like, weird superstitious little.. "

* * *

"To my darling daughter, April. 'The human heart has hidden treasures in secret kept, in silence. The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures whose charms were broken if revealed.' Fom your loving father."

* * *

"Evening Solace by Charlotte Bronte

The human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed;
­The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.
And days may pass in gay confusion,
And nights in rosy riot fly,
While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion,
The memory of the Past may die.

But, there are hours of lonely musing,
Such as in evening silence come,
When, soft as birds their pinions closing,
The heart's best feelings gather home.
Then in our souls there seems to languish
A tender grief that is not woe;
And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish,
Now cause but some mild tears to flow.

And feelings, once as strong as passions,
Float softly back­a faded dream;
Our own sharp griefs and wild sensations,
The tale of others' sufferings seem.
Oh ! when the heart is freshly bleeding,
How longs it for that time to be,
When, through the mist of years receding,
Its woes but live in reverie !

And it can dwell on moonlight glimmer,
On evening shade and loneliness;
And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer,
Feel no untold and strange distress­
Only a deeper impulse given
By lonely hour and darkened room,
To solemn thoughts that soar to heaven,
Seeking a life and world to come."

postado por Glau @ 00:01