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To act is to rest.
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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.
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The perfect man of pagans was the perfection of the man there is; the perfect man of christians, the perfection of the man there isn't; the buddhists' perfect man, the perfection of not existing a man.
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We never love someone. We just love the idea we have of someone. It's a concept of ours - summing up, ourselves - that we love.
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It was just a moment, and I saw myself. Then I no longer could say what I was.
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Yes, talking to people makes me sleepy.
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Nature is the difference between the soul and God.
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Being pleased with what they give you is proper of slaves. Asking for more is proper of children. Conquering more is proper of fools.
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I search and can't find myself. I belong in chrysanthemum time, sharp in calla lily elongations. God made my soul into an ornamental thing.
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When I write, I solemnly visit myself.
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There's a tiredness of abstract intelligence, and it's the most horrible of tirednesses. It doesn't weight on you like the tiredness of the body, nor does it worry you like the tiredness of knowledge and emotion. It's a weightiness of the conscience of the world, an inability of the soul to breathe.
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In order to understand, I destroyed myself.
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Tedium is the lack of a mithology. To whom has no beliefs, even doubt is impossible, even skepticism has no strength to suspect.
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Ah, poder ser tu, sendo eu!Ter a tua alegre inconsciência,E a consciência disso!
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The slope takes you to the windmill, but effort takes you nowhere.
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Whether or not they exist, we're slaves to the gods.
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My God, my God, who am I attending to? How many am I? Who is me? What is this interval between me and me?
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O amor é que é essencial.O sexo é só um acidente.
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My joy is as painful as my pain.
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And let our despite go to those who work and fight and our hate to those who hope and trust.
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O poeta é um fingidor.Finge tão completamenteQue chega a fingir que é dorA dor que deveras sente.
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Not pleasure, not glory, not power: freedom, only freedom.
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To think is to destroy. The very process of thought indicates it for the same thought, as thinking is decomposing.
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I never meant to be but a dreamer.