60 messages and quotes from Adelia Prado for those who are in love with literature

By: Tranoniq.com

One of the most beloved Brazilian poetists of all time, Adélia Luzia Prado de Freitas is also a Brazilian teacher, philosopher and short story writer linked to modernism. With simple vocabulary and colloquial language, Adelia produces light and striking poems that portray everyday life. Dive into the words of this spectacular writer with these beautiful and supermarket Adelia Prado messages and quotes.

Adelia Prado messages and quotes that reflect well the writing of this great Brazilian author

Those who carry the sea in their limits have affection with the sea.

Woman is unfoldable. I am.

My sadness has no pedigree, already my desire for joy, its root goes to my thousand grandfather.

There is always a reason, although there is no explanation.

I don’t want knife or cheese. I want hunger.

My heart is unfolding the cloths, widening warm, turning the world, cracking my fingers to person and animals.

With forgiveness of the word, I want to fall into life.

I don’t understand my huge patience myself to be for nothing, just thinking, thinking and feeling.

I think God is a human projection, it is an infinite desire we have to worship, and something that suspends us with the absolute meaning.

What memory loves becomes eternal. I love you with the memory, imperishable.

I went to sleep sometimes so happy that if I knew my strength, I would levitate. In others, so much was the sadness I made verses.

The dream filled the night. Extravated to my day. It filled my life and it is his I will live, because dream does not die.

Divago, when what I want just say I love you.

pain has nothing to do with bitterness. I think everything that happens is done for us to learn more and more, it is to teach us to live. Unfoldable. Every richer day of humanity.

give me porridge, hot broths, give me prudent advice, I want is the silky tip of your bold mustache, your mouth of the ember.

Languages ​​are imperfect for poems to exist.

One occasion, my father painted the whole bright orange. For a long time we live in a house, as he himself said, constantly dawning.

Beauty is one of the most comforting values ​​that exist.

For the desire of my heart, the sea is a drop.

We are thirsty for infinity and permanence, so this being that ensures the permanence of things is that I call God. It’s the absolute.

I only improve when it rains.

I’m at the beginning of my despair, and I only see two ways: either Crazy, or Holy.

As soon as I darken I will date. What an ordained and good world! Dating who? My soul was born designed with an invisible husband.

I want later, when living again, the resurrection and life escaping the divided time, I want all the time.

If it could, today, sweep, that swept all the people with a broom, as if they were CISCOS.

The butterfly inn either is God or is nothing.

Carl Jung said that he returned his patients to his or her religion of origin: the seed of our symbolic life.

As for me, I give thanks for what I now know and, more than forgive, I love.

I can’t handle my old age if I don’t have a faith.

Ideal I have to love like who says things: I want to sleep with you, straighten your hair, squeeze your little mountains of white matter from your back. For now I give it is scream and fright. Few people like it. Few people like.

How will I want peace in the world with a war in the heart?

Love hurts me is under my arm, a span between the ribs, reaches my heart is by this sloping way.

Love uses the mail, the mail cheat, the letter is not enough, love is not sure whether or not it is.

God every now and then takes my poetry and I look stones and see stones.

I suffer because of my spirit of collector-archeologist. I want to put the beautiful in a key with a key to open from time to time and look.

The more you find out, the more the universe widens. This is God.

God is more beautiful than me. And it’s not young. This is consolation.

I want you in front of me, static, and me for all always looking, looking, looking.

comforts me, boy. Speak a phrase, made with my name, to burn the chrysanthemos and I have a Merry Christmas!

The finest thing in the world is the feeling.

Life is very beautiful, just a kiss and the delicate gear moves, a cosmic need protects us.

So I turned to her and said like this: Ah, nothing, silly, is so, if you give, well, if you do not, amen, rings forward.

My God, gives me five years, gives me my hand, heals me to be great.

Today, we have the ideology of perpetual youth, which goes through medicines, gymnastics, plastic and final despair, because nothing responds to our deep human hunger, which is spiritual.

Here is hungry, here hates, here is happy, in the midst of miraculous inventions.

All that we believe and makes us happy, it is mystery.

The very sad things will disappear when the trumpet sounds. We will raise as gods, with the beauty of things they have never sinned, like trees, like stones, exact and worthy of love.

Love for me is to be able to allow the one I love to exist as such, as himself.

The most common things dominate us. This can’t!

loves and doesn’t even know what you love anymore.

I want later, when living again, the resurrection and life escaping the divided time, I want all the time.

It was not anger. It was a mark of pain.

Everyday life is already heroic and we have to accept. Will I give a tantrum with God? Be poor, be rich.

We preach about love, but love is something that lives in dust. It is in the grim of life that we prove things. Who does not want to face is losing the treasure of life, because this is where I am proven.

didn’t tell me in love. This word of luxury.

What I could offer without macula was my cry for beauty or tiredness, an exhalled tooth, the prejudice favorable to all forms of the baroque in music and Rio de Janeiro that I visited once and left me suspended.

Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong decade. I have principles that have already been lost and I love things that no longer give themselves value.

Love for me is to be able to allow the one I love to exist as such as himself. This is the fullest love.

I put love on pylon with gray and purple grain and punch. Macero him, I make him paterlasma and put it on the wound.

We are suffering from the deficiency of attention. We don’t look at each other.

Impossible not to be delighted with so many simple but beautiful words at the same time, right? Learn more about Brazilian literature with these messages and quotes by Carolina Maria de Jesus!

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