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“This is not to say that the race question is any nearer resolution in Brazil than anywhere else - simply that racist ideology faces a more difficult task in Brazil on account of the racial confusion and the range of race mixtures that exist there. Discrimination confronts a web of racial lines as unpredictable as the lines of the human palm. This invalidation of racism by virtue of the scattering of its object is far more subtle and effective than ideological struggle, whose ambiguity invariably revives the very problem it seeks to resolve. Racism will never end so long as it is combated frontally in terms of rational rebuttal. It can be defeated only through an ironic give-and-take founded precisely on racial differences: not at all through the legitimation of differences by legal means, but through an ultimately violent interaction grounded in seduction and voracity. One thinks of the Bishop of Pernambuco; one thinks of the words 'How good he was, my little Frenchman!' He is very good-looking, so he is sanctified - and eaten. He is granted something greater than the right to exist: the prestige of dying. If racism is a violent abreaction in response to the Other's seductive power (rather than to the Other's difference), it can surely be defused only by an increase in seductiveness itself. So many other cultures enjoy a more original situation than ours. For us everything is predictable: we have extraordinary analytical means but no situation to analyse. We live theoretically well beyond our own events: hence our deep melancholy. For others destiny still flickers: they live it, but it remains for them, in life as in death, something forever indecipherable. As for us, we have abolished 'elsewhere' . Cultures stranger than ours live in prostration (before the heavens, before destiny); we live in consternation (at the absence of destiny). Nothing can come from anywhere except from us. This is, in a way, the most absolute misfortune.”

“Nukuu ya mwandishi wa vitabu wa Brazili, Paulo Coelho, "Tunapopenda tunajitahidi siku zote kuwa wazuri zaidi kuliko jinsi sisi wenyewe tulivyo. Tunapojitahidi kuwa wazuri zaidi kuliko jinsi sisi wenyewe tulivyo, kila kitu katika maisha yetu kinakuwa kizuri hali kadhalika.", inadhihirisha kikamilifu tabia ambayo bibi yangu (Martha Maregesi) alijitahidi kuwa nayo katika kipindi cha maisha yake yote. Alikuwa mtu mwenye furaha sana. Alikuwa na tabasamu lenye kuambukiza ambalo marafiki na familia yake hawakuweza kujizuia kutabasamu pia alipofurahi nao. Pamoja na kwamba alikumbana na matatizo mengi na bahati mbaya nyingi katika maisha yake, alijulikana kama mtu mwenye upendo na uvumilivu mkubwa.”

“There is, however, one natural feature of this country, the interest and grandeur of which may be fully appreciated in a single walk: it is the ‘virgin forest’. Here no one who has any feeling of the magnificent and the sublime can be disappointed; the sombre shade, scarce illumined by a single direct ray even of the tropical sun, the enormous size and height of the trees, most of which rise like huge columns a hundred feet or more without throwing out a single branch, the strange buttresses around the base of some, the spiny or furrowed stems of others, the curious and even extraordinary creepers and climbers which wind around them, hanging in long festoons from branch to branch, sometimes curling and twisting on the ground like great serpents, then mounting to the very tops of the trees, thence throwing down roots and fibres which hang waving in the air, or twisting round each other form ropes and cables of every variety of size and often of the most perfect regularity. These, and many other novel features – the parasitic plants growing on the trunks and branches, the wonderful variety of the foliage, the strange fruits and seeds that lie rotting on the ground – taken altogether surpass description, and produce feelings in the beholder of admiration and awe. It is here, too, that the rarest birds, the most lovely insects, and the most interesting mammals and reptiles are to be found. Here lurk the jaguar and the boa-constrictor, and here amid the densest shade the bell-bird tolls his peal.”

“Esbandalhados nós estávamos, escatimados naquela esfrega. Esmorecidos é que não. Nenhum se lastimava, filhos do dia, acho mesmo que ninguém se dizia de dar por assim. Jagunço é isso. Jagunço não se escabrêia com perda nem derrota — quase que tudo para ele é o igual. Nunca vi. Pra ele a vida já está assentada: comer, beber, apreciar mulher, brigar, e o fim final.”

“I could not help remembering that I myself had uttered to a journalist in 1967, during the dawn of tropicalismo, a sentence that Tom Zé would soon use in a song resonant with the movement: "I am Bahian and I am a foreigner." In fact, we had understood that in order to do what we believed necessary, we had to rid ourselves of Brazil as we knew it. We had to destroy the Brazil of the nationalists, we had to go deeper and pulverize the image of Brazil as being exclusively identified with Rio.”

“My idle dreams of leaving behind what I was already doing professionally in order to study, to direct films, or to write receded with the shock of prison and exile. I simply lacked the strength even to adumbrate an act of will. The bell that had rung as I was falling asleep that morning the police had come to take me away had so deeply left its mark that I was still trembling at the sound of the doorbell in Chelsea. So it was impossible for me to dare do anything I might wish. And insofar as there was growing receptivity to what I did among my fellow professionals in London, a simple instinct for survival bound me to the activity in which I was already installed. I would stay home listening to Gil play, at times playing myself, watching television, reading, and above all conversing with people who came by. I was always chatty, but my happiness did not last even until my head hit the pillow. There was always something to feel ashamed of. And I didn't know how to get out of this.”

“The fact that MPB (Brazilian Popular Music) would come to concentrate the energy of this generation only confirms the power of the tradition that made bossa nova possible: in fact, MPB has been, for Brazilians as well as for foreigners, the sound of the discovery of a dreamt-of Brazil. [...] MPB proves to be the most efficient weapon for the affirmation of the Portuguese language in the world, when one considers how many unsuspected lovers it has won through the magic of the word sung in the Brazilian way.”

“When lunchtime comes, as always, I run to Library 1.2. I run my fingers along the edges of the books and follow the path to the romance section, looking for the seventeenth book in the ninth row of the third shelf. This is my routine and I adore every moment of it. One of the pages of the book is different from the rest; it was glued in to replace the original page, which had been torn out. On the patched page, I find my favorite passage from the story. I sit on the floor and read. “How’s the patient?” he asked Derby. “Dead to the world.” “But not actually dead.” “No.” “How nice—to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive.” I close the book and think of my best friend. How I wish he were here to see everything we achieved together. So he could see how our mission changed the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. I wanted to see the look of joy in his eyes as we admired together the demolition of the Wall. Of all the wishes, I wanted to talk to him about rhymes and metrics, sonnets and quatrains, about all the things I’ve been learning at school. Sometimes, the longing hits so hard that I feel as if part of me died with him. As if part of my soul went with Mário, because I’ve never felt complete, whole, again. I feel broken, old scrap. I know Mário wanted to bring change to Redentor, but there are times when I feel it wasn’t worth it. I know it’s selfish, but I would trade all this sea of smiles on strangers’ faces to have a life by my friend’s side. I know he sacrificed himself for the good of all, but I allow myself to be a little selfish. Just a little. Two of the few things I asked for after my participation in the revolution were Firstborn's box and Mário’s chip. At first, many came to me, trying to convince me to engage in political struggle, to be a poster boy, but my mother didn’t allow it. He’s going to school, she said. His mission is over. Now, he’s going to be a child. I like that my mother protects me from the adult world. And all I want is to be a normal boy and live my days peacefully. I no longer want to be involved in shootouts, explosions, and revolutions, of that I’m sure. But she’s wrong about one thing: my mission is not over yet. It all began with Mário by my side, and it will only end with him by my side again. Every night, before sleeping, I fiddle and tinker with the insides of that computer, just waiting to see that red light turn on and the sides of the lenses spin in processing. So far, all I’ve gotten are some light shocks. Even old Jeremias has already said the chip is completely broken, beyond repair. I refuse to give up. – Today’s the day – I say to myself as I unscrew the computer. I replace the old wiring with new ones, clean the processor and run the chip through an advanced recovery system. I work for two hours hunched over the table. I plug the machine in and press the button. Nothing. Zero. Absolutely nothing. I sigh. I don’t let discouragement or despair take hold of me. Tomorrow, I will continue. And if tomorrow the red light doesn’t turn on, I’ll try the day after tomorrow. And after that, and after that, and after that. I will work until there’s no more tomorrow. “Everything works out in the end. If it’s not right, it’s because it’s not the end yet.” It was a robot who liked poetry who taught me: That's how life works.”

“However, there are other, more political forms for these tendencies hostile to Western models. All of these countries that we want to acculturate by force with the principles of political and economic rationality, with the global market and democracy, with a universal principle and a history that is not their own, of which they have neither the ends nor the means - all of these countries which make up the rest of the world - they give us the impression (in Brazil for example) that they will never be accultured to this exogenous model of calculation and growth, that they are deeply allergic to it. And in fact do we, Westerners, masters of the world, still have its ends and means? Do we still measure up to this universal undertaking of mastery that now seems to surpass us in every domain and function like a trap of which we are the first victims?”

“The Counselor brought about that miracle, he turned the wolf into the lamb, he brought him into the fold. And because he turned wolves into lambs, because he gave people who knew only fear and hatred, hunger, crime, and pillaging reasons to change their lives, because he brought spirituality where there had been cruelty, they are sending army after army to these lands to exterminate these people. How has Brazil, how has the world been overcome with such confusion as to commit such an abominable deed? Isn't that sufficient proof that the Counselor is right, that Satan has indeed taken possession of Brazil, that the Republic is the Antichrist?”

“Because the majority of the Amazon rainforest was in Brazil, Mom and Dad somehow decided to name me after the rainforest. “You were born on a rainy day, and was one of the strongest babies at the hospital,” Mom said. “How did you know?” I asked. “You had the loudest cry, which indicated how strong your lungs and heart were. And you’re a girl so we thought naming you ‘Amazon’ after the rainforest and after the mythical women warriors called Amazons, fits you so well.” Dad said. - Amazon Lee and the Ancient Undead of Rome by Kira G. and Kailin Gow”

“Established politicians are also bumping into a new cast of characters within corridors of legislative power. In 2010 parliamentary elections in Brazil, for example, the candidate who won the most votes anywhere in the country (and the second-most-voted congressman in the country's history) was a clown - an actual clown who went by the name of Tiririca and wore his clown costume while he campaigned. His platform was as anti-politician as it gets. "I don't know what a representative in congress does," he told voters in YouTube video that attracted millions of voters, "but if you send me there I will tell you". He also explained that his goal was "to help needy people in this country, but especially my family".”

“سأل الرئيس الأمريكي الرب قائلا : متي ستصبح أمريكا شيوعية ؟ فأجاب الرب : ليس في عهدك ... و سأله كسترو : متي ستصبح كوبا رأسمالية ؟ فأجاب الرب : ليس في عهدك.. و سأله أخيرا الرئيس البرازلى : متي ستتخلص البرازيل من نكبة قروضيها ؟ فأجاب الرب : لا أعتقد أن ذلك سيتم في عهدي ...”

“June 1, 2015 “I’m on the airplane going back home. Everyone is speaking English. It doesn’t feel real. Like I’m living a dream. I don’t feel it in my soul that I should be going home.”

“Our conversation was deep, so he lightened the mood in a second, finding an easy distraction in front of us – taking the call to join in with the cheering, and I followed. A Mexican wave got too big to ignore, pulling us to our feet, popping us out of our bubble, reminding us that we were not alone. But back down in our seats, our Gemini souls found more words, our minds unable to stop.”

“Most big freshwater fish, in most parts of the world, have all but disappeared from most places where they used to live. As with arapaima, the main reason is over-harvesting, but there are other factors too. Dams block the migration routes of many fish, so they disappear from the water above the dam — or even altogether, if breeding grounds are cut off. Draining of floodplains, cutting off backwaters, competition from invasive species and pollution also play a part. And sometimes it's just willful slaughter, as was the case with the North American alligator gar in the early 1900s, thanks to the incorrect assumption that killing these predators would boost populations of ‘game’ fish.”

“Will Brazilian antigambiae measures succeed in Africa? As time goes by it will almost certainly be found that an increasing number of areas can be cleaned of gambiae and be freed of gambiae-transmitted malaria. In Africa, where the species is already widely disseminated, it would seem logical to attempt eradication by beginning in the center of the area to be cleaned and working always outward. It has been demonstrated in Brazil that species eradication of Aedes aegypti and Anopheles gambiae is feasible.”

“campanha de difamação do presidente João Goulart, o Jango, que incluía até a vida pessoal, com sugestão de mulher adúltera, o fantasma do “comunismo”, as “marchas da família com Deus pela liberdade”, de novo Lacerda no rádio e na televisão em discursos incendiários, e uma reta final com manchetes arrasadoras, como “Basta”,”