Fernando Pessoa Quotes
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Then a overflowing desire comes to me, absurd, of a sort of satanism before Satan, in that one day ... an escape out of God can be found and the deepest of us stops, I don't know how, to be a part of being or not being.
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In today's life, the world belongs only to the stupid, the insensitive and the agitated. The right to live and triumph is now conquered almost by the same means by which you conquer internment in an asylum: the inability to think, amorality and hiperexcitation.
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If we knew the truth, we'd see it; all else is system and outskirts.
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The beauty of a naked body is felt only by the dressed races.
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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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Blessed are those who never entrust their life to no one.
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Action men are the unvoluntary slaves of wise men.
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Oh Portugal, today you are fog... The Hour has come!
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The consciousness of life's unconsciousness is intelligence's oldest tax.
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Everything is absurd.
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What would happen to the world if we were human?
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These pages are not my confession; they’re my definition. And I feel, as I begin to write it, that I can write it with some semblance of truth.
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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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These are Fortunate Islands, These are lands without a place
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Life is a thread that someone entangled.
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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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You breathe better when you're rich.
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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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Irony is the first hint that consciousness became conscious.
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Solitude desolates me; company oppresses me.
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To stagnate in the sun, goldenly, like an obscure lake surrounded by flowers.
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And as well as I dream, I reason if I want, for that's just another kind of dream.
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I don't write in Portuguese. I write myself.
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I always live in the present. The future I can't know. The past I no longer have.