<?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-5561767</id><updated>2011-04-21T22:16:59.990+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Deleituras</title><subtitle type='html'>Deleituras e de leituras mais...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-115870804989800615</id><published>2006-09-20T00:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T00:22:47.806+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ausências e aventuras...Porque a ausência não tem que significar «esquecimento», retomo esta coisa do recriar, usando e baralhando as palavras dos outros. E as imagens. Quem sabe... um dia os sons, os cheiros, os espaços. Passos.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/115870804989800615/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=115870804989800615&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/115870804989800615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/115870804989800615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2006/09/ausncias-e-aventuras.html' title=''/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-107064071540232815</id><published>2003-12-05T16:11:00.000Z</published><updated>2003-12-05T16:12:36.043Z</updated><title type='text'>Literatura IV</title><summary type='text'>«Tudo no mundo existe para acabar num livro»Mallarmé</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/107064071540232815/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=107064071540232815&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/107064071540232815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/107064071540232815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/12/literatura-iv.html' title='Literatura IV'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-107064063179149333</id><published>2003-12-05T16:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2003-12-05T16:11:12.450Z</updated><title type='text'>Pele</title><summary type='text'>«Quem foi que à tua pele conferiu esse papelde mais que tua pele ser pele da minha pele»David Mourão-Ferreira, in Do Tempo ao Coração,   1966</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/107064063179149333/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=107064063179149333&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/107064063179149333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/107064063179149333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/12/pele.html' title='Pele'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-107063990347802813</id><published>2003-12-01T15:58:00.000Z</published><updated>2003-12-05T16:00:30.996Z</updated><title type='text'>Rosa Parks e o protesto do autocarro</title><summary type='text'>1 de Dezembro de 1955. Em Montgomery, Alabama, Rosa Parks é presa por recusar ceder o seu lugar num autocarro público a um homem branco, violando assim as leis de segregação racial em vigor na cidade.Em 1955, no estado do Alabama, os americanos de raça negra ainda eram não só obrigados a sentar-se nos bancos traseiros dos transportes públicos, como também a cederem esses lugares aos cidadãos </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/107063990347802813/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=107063990347802813&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/107063990347802813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/107063990347802813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/12/rosa-parks-e-o-protesto-do-autocarro.html' title='Rosa Parks e o protesto do autocarro'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106985187191395210</id><published>2003-11-26T13:04:00.000Z</published><updated>2003-11-26T13:05:03.593Z</updated><title type='text'>Tutankhamon</title><summary type='text'>Assinalando a descoberta, em 1922, do túmulo do faraó egípcio Tutankhamon, pelos arqueólogos Howard Cartes e Lord Carnarvon, as primeiras almas a nele entrar depois de mais de 3000 anos. Mais um pequeno grande mundo que foi dado ao mundo!</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106985187191395210/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106985187191395210&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106985187191395210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106985187191395210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/11/tutankhamon.html' title='Tutankhamon'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106984898000702840</id><published>2003-11-26T12:16:00.000Z</published><updated>2003-11-26T12:16:51.496Z</updated><title type='text'>Literatura III</title><summary type='text'>«Ao fim ao cabo, somos uns pobres homens e mulheres que andamos para aqui. A História é tão assustadora, a vida é tão tremenda, que a literatura se torna uma espécie de porto de abrigo, onde tudo está de acordo, com uma causalidade intrínseca»Mário de Carvalho, in   «JL», entrevista publicada na ediçºão de 12/11/2003</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106984898000702840/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106984898000702840&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106984898000702840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106984898000702840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/11/literatura-iii.html' title='Literatura III'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106984881969378109</id><published>2003-11-26T12:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2003-11-26T12:14:11.216Z</updated><title type='text'>Literatura II</title><summary type='text'>«A literatura é uma utopia, mas benéfica. Todo o romance é uma sociedade perfeita. A literatura como arte tem essa virtude taumatúrgica extraordinária de converter em belo o feio, em bom o mau. Em literatura pode-se alcançar essa sociedade perfeita. Isso é bom, só nos enriquece e nos compensa, de alguma maneira, da vida real»Mario Vargas Llosa, in  Público, Supl. «Livros», entrevista publicada </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106984881969378109/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106984881969378109&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106984881969378109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106984881969378109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/11/literatura-ii.html' title='Literatura II'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106984862181004041</id><published>2003-11-26T12:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2003-11-26T12:10:53.373Z</updated><title type='text'>Literatura I</title><summary type='text'>«Um romance que nos convença da sua verdade é verdadeiro, mesmo que esteja cheio de mentiras»Mario Vargas Llosa, in  Público, Supl. «Livros», entrevista publicada na edição de 1/11/2003</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106984862181004041/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106984862181004041&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106984862181004041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106984862181004041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/11/literatura-i.html' title='Literatura I'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106976562092045302</id><published>2003-11-25T13:07:00.000Z</published><updated>2003-11-25T13:07:31.593Z</updated><title type='text'>Nelson Goodman</title><summary type='text'>Há uma versão de mundo que é, ou vai sendo, construída pela filosofia. Em Needham, Massachusetts, Nelson Goodman deixou-nos em herança a obrigação e a necessidade de permanentemente reconstruirmos o mundo através da mais nobre das actividades: o pensar. Tinha 92 anos e, há já cinco, o mundo perdeu uma das mais brilhantes mentes do século XX. Brilhante na criatividade, no trabalho, no rigor, na </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106976562092045302/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106976562092045302&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106976562092045302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106976562092045302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/11/nelson-goodman.html' title='Nelson Goodman'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106975946101137946</id><published>2003-11-25T11:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2003-11-25T11:24:51.450Z</updated><title type='text'>...e também Mishima</title><summary type='text'>Entregou ao seu editor a última versão do 4º volume de «The Sea of Fertility, obra épica sobre a vida japonesa do século XX, e geralmente considerado o seu trabalho maior. Depois, perante audiência atónita, retirou-se do mundo deixando-lhe quase e apenas a memória de um dos seppukis mais memoráveis. Pronto... está registado...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106975946101137946/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106975946101137946&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106975946101137946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106975946101137946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/11/e-tambm-mishima.html' title='...e também Mishima'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106975891998413526</id><published>2003-11-24T11:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2003-11-25T11:15:50.496Z</updated><title type='text'>Darwin</title><summary type='text'>Apenas para assinalar a publicação, em 1859, da obra que irreversivelmente mudou a nossa versão de mundo: "On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life»</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106975891998413526/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106975891998413526&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106975891998413526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106975891998413526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/11/darwin.html' title='Darwin'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106966649688344235</id><published>2003-11-24T09:34:00.000Z</published><updated>2003-11-24T09:35:25.996Z</updated><title type='text'>Ideia</title><summary type='text'>«Uma boa ideia não tem idade, tem apenas futuro»Frederico Mayor, Director Geral da Unesco, por ocasião do cinquentenário da organização</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106966649688344235/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106966649688344235&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106966649688344235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106966649688344235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/11/ideia.html' title='Ideia'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106761325074525439</id><published>2003-10-31T15:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2003-10-31T15:15:35.753Z</updated><title type='text'>Tempo...</title><summary type='text'>«(...) Fica-me um tempo por dentro        Passa-me um tempo por fora»Ary dos Santos, «O Relógio», in  Adereços, Endereços</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106761325074525439/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106761325074525439&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106761325074525439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106761325074525439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/10/tempo.html' title='Tempo...'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106448603177761213</id><published>2003-09-25T11:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-25T11:34:11.013+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Conquistador...</title><summary type='text'>«O fim e o objectivo do conquistador é evitar fazer as mesmas coisas que o conquistado»Alexandre, o Grande, citado por Plutarco in   Alexandre, 40-2</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106448603177761213/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106448603177761213&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106448603177761213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106448603177761213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/09/conquistador.html' title='Conquistador...'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106401190160377175</id><published>2003-09-19T23:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T00:31:18.880+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Fábula da fábula</title><summary type='text'>Era uma vezUma fábula famosa,AlimentíciaE moralizadora,Que, em verso e prosa,Toda a genteinteligente,PrudenteE sabedoraRepetiaAos filhos,Aos netos,e aos bisnetos,À base duns insectos,de que não vale a pena fixar o nome.A fábula garantiaQue quem cantava morriaDe fome.E, realmente...Simplesmente,Enquanto a fábula contava,Um demónio secreto segredavaAo ouvido secretoDe cada criaturaQue quem não </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106401190160377175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106401190160377175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/09/fbula-da-fbula.html' title='Fábula da fábula'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106364001881892103</id><published>2003-09-15T16:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-15T16:34:02.230+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sê sábio como os sábios. Nem todos os que montam são cavaleiros.provérbio árabe</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106364001881892103/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106364001881892103&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106364001881892103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106364001881892103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/09/s-sbio-como-os-sbios.html' title=''/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106332183895737261</id><published>2003-09-11T23:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-12T00:15:25.810+01:00</updated><title type='text'>11 de Setembro: horror de gritos, desesperadamente morrer em silêncio</title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106332183895737261/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106332183895737261&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106332183895737261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106332183895737261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/09/11-de-setembro-horror-de-gritos.html' title='11 de Setembro: horror de gritos, desesperadamente morrer em silêncio'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106332121064052020</id><published>2003-09-11T23:41:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-12T00:02:38.286+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Allende por Neruda</title><summary type='text'>«Escrevo estas rápidas linhas para as minhas memórias apenas três dias passados sobre os factos inqualificáveis que levaram à morte o meu grande camarada: o presidente Allende. O seu assassinato foi mantido em silêncio. Foi sepultado secretamente. Só a sua viúva teve licença para acompanhar aquele cadáver imortal. A versão dos agressores é que encontraram o seu corpo inerte, com sinais evidentes </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106332121064052020/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106332121064052020&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106332121064052020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106332121064052020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/09/allende-por-neruda.html' title='Allende por Neruda'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106332003542861345</id><published>2003-09-11T23:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-11T23:40:35.380+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Theodor Adorno, no centenário do seu nascimento...</title><summary type='text'>A autodestruição do esclarecimento«Não alimentamos dúvida nenhuma - e nisso reside a nossa petitio principii - de que a liberdade na sociedade é inseparável do pensamento esclarecedor. Contudo, acreditamos ter reconhecido, com a mesma clareza, que o próprio conceito desse pensamento, tanto quanto as formas históricas concretas, as instituições da sociedade com as quais está entrelaçado, contém </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106332003542861345/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106332003542861345&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106332003542861345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106332003542861345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/09/theodor-adorno-no-centenrio-do-seu.html' title='Theodor Adorno, no centenário do seu nascimento...'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106320566530306622</id><published>2003-09-10T15:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-10T15:54:47.993+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Exortação a Sancho</title><summary type='text'>Senhor meu, Sancho Pança enlouquecidoServo vencidoNa terra sonhadaOlha esta Ibéria que te foi roubada,E que só terá paz quando for tua.Ergue a fronte dobradaE começa a façanha prometida!Cumpre o voto da nova arremetida,Feito aos pés de quem foiO destemido heróiDa batalha de ser fiél à vida!Nega-te a ser passiva testemunhaDo amor cobiçosoQue os falsos namoradosFazem crer impoluto e</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106320566530306622/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106320566530306622&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106320566530306622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106320566530306622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/09/exortao-sancho.html' title='Exortação a Sancho'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106313291601943832</id><published>2003-09-09T19:41:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-09T19:42:11.490+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Capitalismo:</title><summary type='text'>É o processo pelo qual as raparigas americanas se tornam mulheres americanas.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106313291601943832/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106313291601943832&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106313291601943832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106313291601943832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/09/capitalismo.html' title='Capitalismo:'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106313276363942226</id><published>2003-09-09T19:39:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-09T19:39:23.560+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Silêncio...</title><summary type='text'>«Se a palavra que vais dizer não é mais bela que o silêncio... não a digas»Parábola Sufi</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106313276363942226/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106313276363942226&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106313276363942226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106313276363942226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/09/silncio.html' title='Silêncio...'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106266981011803693</id><published>2003-09-04T11:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-04T11:03:30.050+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Guerra...</title><summary type='text'>«After each war there is a little less democracy to save»Brooks Atkinson, in Once Around the Sun, 1951</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106266981011803693/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106266981011803693&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106266981011803693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106266981011803693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/09/guerra.html' title='Guerra...'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106260904195286344</id><published>2003-09-03T18:10:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-03T18:12:34.536+01:00</updated><title type='text'>O TOURO capou-me?</title><summary type='text'>«O TOURO capou-me, doutor?». Esta foi a primeira pergunta que Jesulín de Ubrique formulou ao médico que lhe prestou os primeiros socorros na enfermaria da praça de Villacarrillo, Jaén (Espanha), após ter sido colhido pelo quinto exemplar da tarde. O «diestro» favorito das aficionadas espanholas foi corneado no sábado, quando se preparava para dar a estocada de morte, tendo sofrido uma «ferida com</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106260904195286344/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106260904195286344&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106260904195286344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106260904195286344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/09/o-touro-capou-me.html' title='O TOURO capou-me?'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106245163359305948</id><published>2003-09-01T22:27:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-01T22:45:23.186+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Hemingway: Como condensar os clássicos...</title><summary type='text'>Quase terminaram o trabalho de condensar os clássicos. Trata-se de um pequeno grupo de condensadores entusiastas, supostamente subvencionados por Andrew Carnagie, que têm trabalhado durante os últimos cinco anos para reduzir a literatura mundial a bocados comestíveis para consumo do esgotado homem de negócios.Os Miseráveis foram reduzidos a dez páginas. Parece que o Dom Quixote ocupa uma coluna </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106245163359305948/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106245163359305948&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106245163359305948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106245163359305948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/09/hemingway-como-condensar-os-clssicos.html' title='Hemingway: Como condensar os clássicos...'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-106245081996405198</id><published>2003-09-01T22:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-01T22:13:40.003+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Regresso...</title><summary type='text'>No regresso da canícula alentejana, lenta e impune no seu alastrar pelos corpos e a perturbar os espíritos mais apressados, outros deleites de leituras... deleituras, tão-só...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/106245081996405198/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=106245081996405198&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106245081996405198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/106245081996405198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/09/regresso.html' title='Regresso...'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-105986823512313113</id><published>2003-08-03T00:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-03T00:51:28.573+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Felicidade...</title><summary type='text'>A alquimia da felicidade depende da correcta mistura dos esquecimentos.Luís Sepúlveda, in Encontros de amor num país em guerra</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/105986823512313113/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=105986823512313113&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105986823512313113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105986823512313113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/08/felicidade.html' title='Felicidade...'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-105986795519180494</id><published>2003-08-03T00:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-03T00:45:55.176+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Deserto...</title><summary type='text'>O deserto não é a ausência. É o estado anterior à presença (...). Ele é. Sem precisarmos de lhe delimitar contornos, uma geografia, uma superfície, ele é o deserto.Yves Simon, in O Viajante Magnífico</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/105986795519180494/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=105986795519180494&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105986795519180494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105986795519180494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/08/deserto.html' title='Deserto...'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-105969333931103599</id><published>2003-08-01T00:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-01T00:16:04.700+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Breve diálogo...</title><summary type='text'>«Winston, se eu fosse casada contigo punha veneno no teu café»Nancy Astor«Nancy, se eu fosse teu marido, bebia-o»Winston Churchill</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/105969333931103599/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=105969333931103599&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105969333931103599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105969333931103599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/08/breve-dilogo.html' title='Breve diálogo...'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-105939298567369347</id><published>2003-07-28T12:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-07-28T12:49:45.720+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Possibilidade de Che...</title><summary type='text'>(...)É um poder que se tem.Um terrível poder contagioso.Por isso há tanta gente a policiar tanta gente.Para que não aconteça o inesperadopara que ninguém resolva por exemplochegar a uma janela e gritareu sou o Che.Porque a verdade é que pode ser.HÁ UMA POSSIBILIDADE DE CHE EM CADA UM.CHE, Manuel Alegre</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/105939298567369347/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=105939298567369347&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105939298567369347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105939298567369347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/07/possibilidade-de-che.html' title='Possibilidade de Che...'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-105908785748760881</id><published>2003-07-25T00:04:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-07-25T00:05:24.250+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Unamuno, Miguel Torga</title><summary type='text'>D. Miguel...Fazia pombas brancas de papelQue voavam da Ibéria ao fim do mundo...Unamuno Terceiro(Foi o Cid primeiroD. Quixote o segundo).Amante duma Dulcineia,Ilusória, também(Pátria mãe,IdeiaE namorada),Era o seu defensor quando ninguémLhe defendia a honra ameaçada.Chamado pelo aceno da miragem,Deixava o Escurial onde viviaE subia, subiaA requestar na carne da paisagemA alma </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/105908785748760881/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=105908785748760881&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105908785748760881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105908785748760881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/07/unamuno-miguel-torga.html' title='Unamuno, Miguel Torga'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-105882194776668550</id><published>2003-07-21T22:12:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-07-21T22:12:50.950+01:00</updated><title type='text'>O Silêncio é a morte...</title><summary type='text'>O Silêncio é a morteE tu, se te calasMorresE se falasMorresEntão. diz e morreTahar Djaout, jornalista argelino assassinado em 1993</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/105882194776668550/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=105882194776668550&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105882194776668550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105882194776668550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/07/o-silncio-morte.html' title='O Silêncio é a morte...'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-105855056444389435</id><published>2003-07-18T18:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-07-18T18:49:24.356+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Mandela</title><summary type='text'>85 anos de homem melhor!</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/105855056444389435/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=105855056444389435&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105855056444389435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105855056444389435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/07/mandela.html' title='Mandela'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-105835721247564322</id><published>2003-07-16T13:06:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-07-16T13:14:49.790+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Questão...</title><summary type='text'>Que acontece ao buraco quando acaba o queijo?Bertold, o dramaturgo Brecht</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/105835721247564322/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=105835721247564322&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105835721247564322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105835721247564322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/07/questo.html' title='Questão...'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-105822168496228158</id><published>2003-07-14T23:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-07-14T23:29:14.640+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Poesia...</title><summary type='text'>Poesia... é mais um sabor, que saber.D. Pedro, o ínclito regente</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/105822168496228158/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=105822168496228158&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105822168496228158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105822168496228158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/07/poesia.html' title='Poesia...'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-105796888756026251</id><published>2003-07-12T01:14:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-07-28T12:52:54.200+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Semprempe</title><summary type='text'>Semprempe</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/105796888756026251/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=105796888756026251&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105796888756026251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105796888756026251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/07/semprempe.html' title='Semprempe'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5561767.post-105776749295693686</id><published>2003-07-09T17:18:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-07-09T17:18:12.960+01:00</updated><title type='text'>P'ra começar...</title><summary type='text'>Pois é isso mesmo, para começar...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/feeds/105776749295693686/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5561767&amp;postID=105776749295693686&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105776749295693686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5561767/posts/default/105776749295693686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deleituras.blogspot.com/2003/07/pra-comear.html' title='P&apos;ra começar...'/><author><name>Maria</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03560458225757872979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
