Quarter Mile Time For A Buggatti

Within 24 hours, for the same reason, I received a painful insult (a grimace), and then I got a great joy and I felt satisfied with myself and my actions.

Today I have to thank the English accent who spoke to me and smiled at me with kindness, and made me realize that "I'm going the right way." I needed this, to hear me say: Go ahead so, do not give up ... you're right!
Today I spoke with two good people , passionate about life and love to discover and learn new things around them. Two people alive and intelligent with a strong sense of duty and the smile on his face.
Like yesterday, I draw inspiration from a great poet to forget the sadness of an apathetic whining did not deserve my help, and when I called him friend, he took advantage of my hard work, a person who ....

He or she who becomes the slave of,
repeating every day the same itineraries, who does not change the brand
,
who does not risk and change the color of the clothes,
does not talk to those who do not know.
He or she who shuns passion,
who prefers black on white, dotting the "i"
rather than a set of emotions,
the kind that make your eyes sparkle,
that turn a yawn a smile, those
that make the heart beat
face of mistakes and feelings.
He or she who does not overthrow the table when is unhappy at work,
who does not risk certainty for uncertainty, to chase a dream, who does not allow
least once in their lives to flee from sensate advises.
He or she who does not travel, does not read,
who does not listen to music, who does not find grace in himself.
Dies slowly he who destroys self-esteem, who does not accept help;
who passes his days complaining of his bad luck or the incessant rain.
Dies slowly he who abandons a project before starting it,
who does not ask questions on subjects he does not know
who does not answer when asked about something he knows.
Let's avoid death in small doses,
reminding oneself that being alive requires an effort far
greater than the simple act of breathing. Only a burning patience will lead

the attainment of a splendid happiness.

SLOWLY DIES of Martha Medeiros (Porto Alegre, 20 de agosto de 1961) is a Brazilian journalist and writer .

This poem I have always been enchanted by the simplicity with which she tells a great truth, and a great lesson for all.
I tried to make it my own, to absorb as much as possible.