I don't complain about the horror of life; I complain about the horror of my life. The only fact I worry about is that I exist and suffer and can't even dream of being removed from my feeling of suffe...
I can breathe easier now that the appointments are behind me.I missed them all, through deliberate negligence,Having waited for the urge to go, which I knew wouldn’t come.
Giving importance to what we think because we thought it, taking our own selves not only (to quote the Greek philosopher) as the measure of all things but as their norm or standard, we create in ourse...
At other times I wake up from the half sleep I'd fallen into, and hazy images with poetical and unpredictable colours play out their silent show to my inattention.
Everything is interconnected. My readings of classical authors, who never speaks of sunsets, have made many sunsets intelligible to me, in all their colors. There is a relationship between syntactical...
Yes it’s me, I myself, what I turned out to be, (…) I’m the one here in myself, it’s me. (…) Whatever I was, whatever I wasn’t—it’s all in what I am. Whatever I wanted, whatever I didn’t want—all of t...
And suddenly, from behind me, I hear the metaphysically abrupt arrival of the office boy. I feel like I could kill him for barging in on what I wasn't thinking. I turn around and look at him with a si...
لو أكون مضبوطاً تماماً مثل آلة!لو أمضي ظافراً عبر الحياة
أعطيتك قلبيانظري كيف عاملته!
Were we as we should be, We wouldn’t need any illusions . . .
The only intellectual attitude worthy of a superior creature is a feeling of calm, cool compassion for everything that is not himself.
Suddenly I’m all alone in the world. I see all this from the summit of a mental rooftop. I’m alone in the world. To see is to be distant. To see clearly is to halt. To analyze is to be foreign. No one...
Like every dreamer, I've always felt that my calling was to create. Since I've never been able to make an effort or carry out an intention, creation for me has always meant dreaming, wanting or desiri...
This little boy playing next to me is an intellectual mass of cells - better yet, he's a clockwork of subatomic movements, a strange electrical conglomeration of millions of solar systems in minature....
الحزين لا ينام يسهر ليجد الفرح.
No other writer ever achieved such a direct transference of self to paper. The Book of Disquiet is the world’s strangest photograph, made out of words, the only material capable of capturing the reces...
I’ve reached the point where tedium is a person, the incarnate fiction of my own company.
I believe in the World as in a daisy. Because I see it. But I don’t think about itBecause thinking is not understanding…
With slight misconceptions of reality we fabricate our hopes and beliefs, and we live off crusts that we call cakes, like poor children who make-believe they’re happy.
To feel everything in every way; to be able to think with the emotions and feel with the mind; not to desire much except with the imagination; to suffer with haughtiness; to see clearly so as to write...