Areté

areté-arte
Péricles

"Ele considerava que seu maior mérito era o facto de que, apesar do imenso poder de que dispôs, jamais cedeu a sentimentos de inveja ou de ódio e nunca tratou ninguém como um inimigo tão irreconciliável que este não pudesse jamais tornar-se um amigo"

Plutarco, sobre Péricles, em Os Grandes Líderes

Shake dreams from your hair, my pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day, and choose the sign of your day.
The day's divinity, the first thing you see.

Come on out for a walk!
It's a beautiful night!
The vast radiant beach and cool jeweled moon.
Couples, naked, racedown by its quiet side and we laugh like soft,
mad children, smug in the woolly cotton brains of infancy.

Choose, they croon, the ancient ones. The time has come again.
Choose now, they croon, beneath the moon, beside an ancient lake.

Enter again the sweet forest.
Enter the hot dream, come with us.
Everything is broken up and dances.

Now I have come again to the land of the fair, strong and wise.
Brothers and sisters o'er the pale forest.
Children of the night, who among you will run with the hunt?
Now night arrives with her purple legion.

Retire now to your tents and dreams.
Tomorrow we enter the town of my birth. I want to be ready.

Jim Morrison
where will you be when the summer's gone

Window's open to the lake
but the river's running
round in shape

Doors are wide
and form both sides
you view a way
or a place to hide

Down the stairs low we lay
Up the leder a leader rise

Woman's heading towards the sun
laughing jewerly
my sweet one.

Death is walking upon us
when the feather'r
covered on dust.

Down the stairs low we lay
Up the leder a leader rise

Praying people say the name
of whom the mind
was made insane.

Preachers pack
the golden shoes
made to walk
upon the path of lose

Down the stairs
Where we lay. Arte