Ζήτησα τόσο λίγα απ' τη ζωή, αλλά ακόμα κι αυτά τα λίγα η ζωή μού τα αρνήθηκε. Ένα υπόλειμμα από ένα κομμάτι ήλιου, λίγη ύπαιθρο, λίγη ησυχία κι ένα κομμάτι ψωμί, να μη με βαραίνει πολύ η γνώση ότι υπ...
Wise is the man who monotonizes his existence, for then each minor incident seems a marvel.
Saudades, só portuguesesConseguem senti-las bem.Porque têm essa palavraPara dizer que as têm.
Não sou nada.Nunca serei nada.Não posso querer ser nada.À parte isso, tenho em mim todos os sonhos do mundo.
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...
Life is what we make of it. Travel is the traveler. What we see isn't what we see but what we are.
In me all affections take place on the surface, but sincerely. I've always been an actor, and in earnest. Whenever I've loved, I've pretended to love, pretending it even to myself.
If I write what I feel, it's to reduce the fever of feeling. What I confess is unimportant, because everything is unimportant.
I have no philosophy, I have senses . . . If I speak of Nature it’s not because I know what it is But because I love it, and for that very reason, Because those who love never know what they love Or w...
I feel love for all this, perhaps because I have nothing else to love ... even though nothing truly merits the love of any soul, if, out of sentiment, we must give it, I might as well lavish it on the...
I am tired of myself in every way. All things, deep down to the secret of their roots, are stained by the color of my weariness.
Conta a lenda que dormiaUma Princesa encantadaA quem só despertariaUm Infante, que viriaDe além do muro da estrada.Ele tinha que, tentado,Vencer o mal e o bem,Antes que, já libertado,Deixasse o caminh...
The poet is a faker / Who's so good at his act / He even fakes the pain / Of pain he feels in fact.
لو أكون مضبوطاً تماماً مثل آلة!لو أمضي ظافراً عبر الحياة
سلالة النهاية أنتمي الي جيل ورث الارتياب تجاه الايمان المسيحي خالقا في ذاته الكفر بكل أنواع الايمان . آباؤنا مازالوا يمتلكون الباعث الايماني الذي نقلوه من المسيحية الى أشكال أخرى من الوهم , بعضهم كا...
Were we as we should be, We wouldn’t need any illusions . . .
We worship perfection because we can't have it; if we had it, we would reject it. Perfection is inhuman, because humanity is imperfect.
Trago dentro do meu coração,Como num cofre que se não pode fechar de cheio,Todos os lugares onde estive,Todos os portos a que cheguei,Todas as paisagens que vi através de janelas ou vigias,
To write is to forget. Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life. Music soothes, the visual arts exhilarates, the performing arts (such as acting and dance) entertain. Literature, however,...
Time, which grays hair and wrinkles faces, also withers violent affections, and much more quickly.