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I never cared about whatever tragic event happened in China. It's faraway decoration, even if in blood and plague.
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Life is a thread that someone entangled.
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Man shouldn't be able to see his own face. That's what's most terrible. Nature gave him the possibility of not seeing it, as well as the incapacity of not seeing his own eyes.
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Art consists in making others feel what we feel.
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Some sensations are sleeps that take up all the extent of the mind like a fog, don't let us think, don't let us act, don't let us be clearly.
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Direct experience is the evasion, or hiding place of those devoid of imagination.
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Inside the henhouse from where he will be taken to be killed, the cock sings hymns to liberty because he was given two perches.
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'Any road', said Carlyle, 'even this road to Entepfuhl, will take you to the end of the world'. But the Entepfuhl road, if taken in its entirety, and to the end, goes back to Entepfuhl; so Entepfuhl, where we already were, is that very end of the world we were seeking.
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Não sou nada.Nunca serei nada.Não posso querer ser nada.À parte isso, tenho em mim todos os sonhos do mundo.
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I never was but an isolated bon vivant, which is absurd; or a mystic bon vivant, which is an impossible thing.
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What is a disease is wishing with an equal intensity what is needed and what is desirable, and suffer for not being perfect as you would suffer for not having bread. The romantic error is this wanting the moon as if there was a way to get it.
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The consciousness of life's unconsciousness is intelligence's oldest tax.
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Knowing not to have illusions is absolutely necessary in order to have dreams.
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If we knew the truth, we'd see it; all else is system and outskirts.
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Sejamos simples e calmos,Como os regatos e as árvores,E Deus amar-nos-á fazendo de nósBelos como as árvores e os regatos,E dar-nos-á verdor na sua primavera,E um rio aonde ir ter quando acabemos...E não nos dará mais nada, porque dar-nos mais seria tirar-nos mais.
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I come closer to my desk as to a bulwark against life.
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It's been a long time since I've been me.
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Yet I have no stylistic nobility. My head aches because my head aches. The universe aches me because my head aches.
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Only sterility is noble and dignified. Only killing what never was is elevated and perverse and absurd.
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God gave the sea the danger and the abyss, but it was in it that He mirrored the sky.
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The train slows down, it's the Cais do Sodré. I arrived to Lisbon, but not to a conclusion.
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I reread? I lied! I don't dare to reread. I cannot reread. What's the point, for me, in rereading?
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These are Fortunate Islands, These are lands without a place
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Changing from the ghosts of faith to the spectres of reason is just changing cells.