segunda-feira, 21 de março de 2016

3 dias têm 50 anos

I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
Will you confess this in a letter? You must write immediately and o all you can to console me in it. Make it rich as draught of poppies to intoxicate me. Write the softest words and kiss them that I may at least touch my lips where yours have been

À conquista da alma.

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