Those who really suffer don’t form groups, don’t go around in a gang. Those who suffer suffer alone.
Sickness occurs when we desire what we need and what’s desirable with equal intensity, suffering our lack of perfection as if we were suffering for lack of bread.
Se escrevo o que sinto é porque assim diminuo a febre de sentir.
My whole life has been a battle lost on the map. Cowardice didn't even make it to the battlefield, where perhaps it would have dissipated; it haunted the chief of staff in his office, all alone with h...
If this be to have sense, if to be awakeBe but to see this bright, great sleep of things,
I try to shed what I’ve learned, I try to forget the way I was taught to remember
I believe in the world as in a daisy, Because I see it. But I don’t think about it, Because to think is to not understand. The world wasn’t made for us to think about it (To think is to have eyes that...
Happy the creators of pessimistic systems! Besides taking refuge in the fact of having made something, they can exult in their explanation of universal suffering, and include themselves in it.I don't...
Amar é a eterna inocência, E a única inocência não pensar...
12.Se escrevo o que sinto é porque assim diminuo a febre de sentir. O que confesso não tem importância, pois nada tem importânciaPor: Bernado SoaresIn: Livro do Desassossego
But if the Dream Kings were mine, what would I have to dream about? If I possessed the impossible landscapes, what would remain of the impossible?
I'll be living quietly in a house somewhere in the suburbs, enjoying a peaceful existence not writing the book I'm not writing now and, so as to continue not doing so, I will come up with different ex...
To write is to forget. Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life. Music soothes, the visual arts exhilarate, and the performing arts (such as acting and dance) entertain. Literature, howev...
NEVOEIRONem rei nem lei, nem paz nem guerra,define com perfil e sereste fulgor baço da terraque é Portugal a entristecer –brilho sem luz e sem arder,como o que o fogo-fátuo encerra.Ninguém sabe que co...
Life is an experimental journey undertaken involuntarily. It is a journey of the spirit through the material world and, since it is the spirit that travels, it is the spirit that is experienced. That...
Let us not be deceived by hope, because it betrays, or by love, because it grows weary, or by life, because it satiates but does not sate, or even by death, because it brings more than you want and le...
I try to say what I feel Without thinking about what I feel. I try to place words right next to my idea So that I won’t need a corridor Of thought leading to words.
I placidly wait for what I don't know- My future and the future of everything.
I find the present monotonous and absurd spectacle of the world outside me so completely lacking in value or nobility that I can scarcely conceive of it as being the world.
How wearisome to let one’s existence become something absolutely dependent on someone else’s feelings; to have no option but to feel, to love a little too, whether or not it is reciprocated.