A feather floats throught the air. The falling feather. A city, Savannah, is revealed in the background. The feather floats down toward the city below. The feather drops down toward the street below, as people walks past and cars drive by, and nearly lands on a man’s shoulder. He walks across the street, causing the feather to be whisked back on its journey. The feather floats above a stopped car. The car drives off right as the feather flowats down toward the street. The feather floats under a passing car, then is sent flying back up in the air. A man sits on a bus bench. The feather floats above the ground and finally lands on the man’s mudsoaked shoe. The man reached down and picks up the feather. He looks at the feather oddly, moves aside a box of chocolates from and old suitcase, then opens the case. Inside the old suitcase are an assortment of clothes, a pingpong paddle, toothpaste and other personal items. He pulls out a book titled ‘Curious George’, then places the feather inside the book. Forrest remains on the bus bench as the bus continues on. A black woman in a nurse’s outfit steps up and sits down at the bus bench next to Forrest. The nurse begins to read a magazine as he looks at her. - Hello. My name’s Forrest Gump
O Ofício de Viver (segundo Woody Allen) ‘Na minha próxima vida, quero viver de trás para frente: Começar morto, para despachar logo o assunto. Depois, acordar num lar de idosos e ir-me sentindo melhor a cada dia que passa. Ser expulso porque estou demasiado saudável, ir receber a reforma e começar a trabalhar, recebendo logo um relógio de ouro no primeiro dia.Trabalhar 40 anos, cada vez mais desenvolto e saudável, até ser jovem o suficiente para entrar na faculdade, embebedar-me diariamente e ser bastante promíscuo.E depois, estar pronto para o secundário e para o primário, antes de me tornar criança e só brincar, sem responsabilidades. Aí torno-me um bébé inocente até nascer.Por fim, passo nove meses flutuando num “spa” de luxo, com aquecimento central, serviço de quarto à disposição e com um espaço maior por cada dia que passa, e depois - “Voilà!” - desapareço num orgasmo’.
‘O tempo cicatriza toda a ferida, mas por muitos meses que virão não irei escrever-lhe nem vê-lo’ (…) Esse desafio fez o seu sangue subir à cabeça. Partiu imediatamente para Paris, uma viagem de seis dias e noites, só parando no caminho para mandar telegramas a Wilde. Quando chegou ao hotel em Paris, esperava-o apenas uma carta dizendo que Wilde não o encontraria. Douglas passou um telegrama de dez ou doze folhas (negou-o posteriormente), dizendo que fizera uma árdua travessia pela Europa com a única esperança de um encontro e que não responderia por si, caso Wilde continuasse a rejeitá-lo. Wilde não ignorava que nas crônicas da familia Queensberry, constava um tio de Douglas que se suicidara em 1891, e um avô que fizera o mesmo alguns anos antes. Diante de tal chantagem, só podia ceder. (…) deixou-se derrotar pela beleza, pelas lágrimas, pela penitência e pelas carícias. Embora não o soubesse, era esta a última chance de libertar-se. Perdendo-a, viu a vida caminhar - quase que independentemente dele - em direcção ao clímax.’ O.W by Richard Ellmann
I’d like to drop my trousers to the world.I am a man of means (of slender means). Each household appliance, is like a new science in my town, and if the day came when I felt a natural emotion , I’d get such a shock I’d probably jump in the ocean , and when a train goes by, It’s such a sad sound. No … It’s such a sad thing . I’d like to drop my trousers to the Queen, every sensible child will know what this means. The poor and the needy, are selfish and greedy on her terms, and if the day came when I felt a natural emotion I’d get such a shock I’d probably jump in the ocean and when a train goes by it’s such a sad sound No … It’s such a sad thing. And when I’m lying in my bed, I think about life and I think about death.. and neither one particularly appeals to me. And if the day came when I felt a Natural emotion I’d get such a shock I’d probably lie in the middle of the street and die I’d lie down and die … The smiths, nowhere fast
I’ve been let down, and I’m still coming round. I’ve been pulled down and I’m still coming round for you. Coming round for you. Take away everything that feels fine, catch a shape in the circles of my mind. Make me feel like I belong to you. Make me feel it even if it ain’t true. Catch a train on a silver afternoon. A thousand miles and I’m gettin’ there too soon. Take me there, when I should be going home. Tell me why I’m still feeling (all) alone. I’ve been let down, and I’m still coming round. I’ve been pulled down and I’m still coming round for you. Coming round for you. Mazzy Star - I’ve been let down
‘Because to influence a person is to give him one’s o own soul. He does not think his natural thoughts, or burn with his natural passions. His virtues are not real to him. His sins, if there are such things as sins, are borrowed. He becomes an echo of some one else’s music, an actor of a part that has not been written for him. The aim of life is self-development. To realize one’s nature perfectly - that is what each of us is here for. People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to one’s self. Of course they are charitable. They feed the hungry, and clothe the beggar. But their own souls starve, and are naked. Courage has gone out of our race. Perhaps we never really had it. The terror of society, which is the basis of morals, the terror of God, which is the secret of religion - these are the two things that govern us. And yet I believe that if one man were to live out his life fully and completely, were to give form to every feeling, expression to every thought, reality to every dream - I believe that the world would gain such a fresh impulse of joy that we would forget all the meladies of mediaevalism, and return to the Hellenic ideal - to something finer, richer, than the Hellenic (…) We are punished for our refusals. Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind, and poisons us. The body sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of purification. Nothing remains then but the recollection of a pleasure, or the luxury of a regret (…) ‘Stop!’ faltered Dorian Gray, ”stop! you bewilder me. I don’t know what to say. There is some answer to you, but I cannot find it. Don’t speak. Let me think. or rather, let me try not to think.’
