The Beatles
You don't realize how much I need you... Love you all the time, never leave you. Please come on back to me, I'm lonely as can be, I need you(...) Oh, yes, you told me you don't want my lovin' anymore. That's when it hurt me and feeling like this, I just can't go on anymore.
Pegue uma canção triste e torne-a melhor
No minuto que você deixá-la fazer parte de você
Então você pode começar a melhorar as coisas
Ei, Jude, não fique mal
Pegue uma canção triste e torne-a melhor
Lembre-se de deixá-la entrar em seu coração
Então você pode começar a melhorar as coisas
Todos nós vivemos em um submarino amarelo
Submarino amarelo, submarino amarelo
Todos nós vivemos em um submarino amarelo
Submarino amarelo, submarino amarelo
O amor é como uma planta. Não se
pode simplesmente colocá-lo num vaso e esperar que cresça, deve-se de cuidar dele e o regar...
Here's all you have to know about men and women: women are crazy, men are stupid. And the main reason women are crazy is that men are stupid.
I’m not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of us will never be perfect. But if I can make you laugh at least once, cause you to think twice, and if I admit being human and making mistakes, hold onto me and give me the most you can. I'm not going to quote poetry, I'm not thinking about you every moment, but I will give you a part of me that I know you could break, my heart. Don’t hurt me, don’t mock me, and don’t expect for more than I can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when I make you happy, yell when I make you mad, and miss me when I'm not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you.
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks yet she says nothing; what of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks.
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!
She speaks!
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him
When he bestrides the lazy puffing clouds
And sails upon the bosom of the air.
One machine can do the work of a hundred ordinary men, but no machine can do the work of extraordinary man.
Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger portion of the truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant.
