What does a river know about this and what does a tree know?And I, who am no more than those, what do I know?Every time I look at things and think about what men think about them,I laugh like how a br...
We never love anyone. What we love is the idea we have of someone. It’s our own concept – our own selves – that we love.
To have opinions is to sell out to youself. To have no opinions is to exist. To have every opinion is to be a poet.
To be great, be entire:Of what is yours nothingexaggerate or excludeBe whole in each thing. Put all that you areInto the least you do
There is no body or truth we possess, nor even any illusion. We are phantoms made of lies. Shadows of illusions, our lives are hollow on both the outside and the inside.
The true danger of romanticism is that the principles through which it rules itself are of such nature that everybody can invoke them to grant themselves the category of artist. Taking the anxiety of...
The existence of laws for the association of ideas, as for all intellectual operations, insults our native indiscipline.
Sou místico, mas só com o corpo. A minha alma é simples e não pensa.
Sim, eis o que os meus sentidos aprenderam sozinhos:— As cousas não têm significação: têm existência. As cousas são o único sentido oculto das cousas.
Para ser grande, sê inteiro: nadaTeu exagera ou exclui.Sê todo em cada coisa. Põe quanto ésNo mínimo que fazes.Assim em cada lago a lua todaBrilha, porque alta vive.To be great, be whole;Exclude nothi...
I am the nothingness around which this movement spins, the only reason it spins, not that the center exists except in the fact that all circles have a center. I, really I, am the well without walls, b...
I acquired, with regard to action, a transcendental honesty which, ever since I became aware of it, has inhibited me from having any strong links with the tangible world.
But do my words ring in anyone else’s soul? Does anyone hear them besides me?
And now I’m sleepy, because I think – I don’t know why – that the meaning of it all is to sleep.
A tree's shade is worth more than the knowledge of truth, my sons, for a tree's shade is true while it lasts, and the knowledge of truth is false in its very truth. The leaves' greenness is worth more...
لقد اعتدت أن أحلم كثيرا.. لقد تعبتُ من الحلم..لكنني لم أتعب..لا أحد يتعب من الحلم ..لإن أن تحلم ..هو أن تنسى..و النسيان لا يكلِّفنا شيئا ..إنه النوم الخالي من الأحلام ذلك الذي يحدث ونحن مستيقظون ..لكن...
The essence of what I desire is simply this: to sleep away life.
Nu ştiu. Îmi lipseşte un simţ, îmi lipseşte un tactÎn viaţă, fie pentru amor, fie pentru glorie...Şi la ce bună oricare istorie,Sau orice alt fapt?Sunt singur, singur cum nimeni niciodată n-a statGol...
Nothing irks me more than the vocabulary of social responsibility. The very word ‘duty’ is unpleasant to me, like an unwanted guest. But the terms ‘civic duty’, ‘solidarity’, ‘humanitarianism’ and oth...
In these random impressions, and with no desire to be other than random, I indifferently narrate my fact-less autobiography, my lifeless history. These are my Confessions, and if in them I say nothing...