segunda-feira, 13 de agosto de 2012

Me as Jean-Jacques,

My passions, when roused, are intense, and, so long as I am activated by them, nothing equals my impetuosity. I no longer know moderation, respect, fear, propriety; I am cynical, brazen, violent, fearless; no sense of shame deters me, no danger alarms me. Except for the object of my passion, the whole world is nothing to me; but this only lasts for a moment, and the next I am plunged into utter dejection. But in periods when I am calm, you will find me all lassitude and timidity: everything startles, everything perturbs me, the movement made, my indolence takes fright; I am so overcome by fear and shame that I would liketo vanish from mortal sight. If I am obliged to act, I do not know what to do; if I am obliged to speak, I do not know what to say; if someone looks at me, I am disconcerted. When moved by passion, I can sometimes find the words for what I want to say; but in ordinary conversation I can find nothing, nothing at all, indeed the very fact that I am obliged to speak makes the whole thing intolerable to me.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau,Confessions

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