Fernando Pessoa Quotes
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Oh Portugal, today you are fog... The Hour has come!
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Direct experience is the evasion, or hiding place of those devoid of imagination.
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A literatura é a maneira mais agradável de ignorar a vida.
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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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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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If we knew the truth, we'd see it; all else is system and outskirts.
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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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I exempt you of being present in my idea of you.
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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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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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The consciousness of life's unconsciousness is intelligence's oldest tax.
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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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That's not my love; that's just your life.
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Blessed are those who never entrust their life to no one.
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You breathe better when you're rich.
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The end is low, like all quantitative ends, personal or not, and it can be attained and verified.
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What would happen to the world if we were human?
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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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I don't believe in the landscape.
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I always live in the present. The future I can't know. The past I no longer have.
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To stagnate in the sun, goldenly, like an obscure lake surrounded by flowers.
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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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These are Fortunate Islands, These are lands without a place
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Irony is the first hint that consciousness became conscious.