Sometimes I muse about how wonderful it would be if I could string all my dreams together into one continuous life, a life consisting of entire days full of imaginary companions and created people.
Fernando PessoaStichwörter: life inspirational poetic dreams imaginary wondrous created-people
Ζήτησα τόσο λίγα απ' τη ζωή, αλλά ακόμα κι αυτά τα λίγα η ζωή μού τα αρνήθηκε. Ένα υπόλειμμα από ένα κομμάτι ήλιου, λίγη ύπαιθρο, λίγη ησυχία κι ένα κομμάτι ψωμί, να μη με βαραίνει πολύ η γνώση ότι υπάρχω, να μην έχω καμιά απαίτηση από τους άλλους ούτε κι αυτοί από μένα. Ακόμα κι αυτό μου το αρνήθηκαν, όπως αυτός που αρνείται να δώσει ελεημοσύνη όχι γιατί του λείπει η καλοσύνη, αλλά γιατί βαριέται να ξεκουμπώσει το παλτό του.
Fernando PessoaBut oh how many Caesars I have been!
Fernando PessoaMost people are afflicted with an inability to say what they see or think. They say there’s nothing more difficult than to define a spiral in words; they claim it is necessary to use the unliterary hand, twirling it in a steadily upward direction, so that human eyes will perceive the abstract figure immanent in wire spring and a certain type of staircase. But if we remember that to say is to renew, we will have no trouble defining a spiral; it’s a circle that rises without ever closing. I realize that most people would never dare to define it this way, for they suppose that defining is to say what others want us to say rather than what’s required for the definition. I’ll say it more accurately: a spiral is a potential circle that winds round as it rises, without ever completing itself. But no, the definition is still abstract. I’ll resort to the concrete, and all will become clear: a spiral is a snake without a snake, vertically wound around nothing.
All literature is an attempt to make life real. All of us know, even when we act on what we don’t know, life is absolutely unreal in its directly real form; the country, the city and our ideas are absolutely fictitious things, the offspring of our complex sensation of our own selves. Impressions are incommunicable unless we make them literary. Children are particularly literary, for they say what they feel not what someone has taught them to feel. Once I heard a child, who wished to say that he was on the verge of tears, say not ‘I feel like crying’, which is what an adult, i.e., an idiot, would say but rather, ’ I feel like tears.’ And this phrase -so literary it would seem affected in a well-known poet, if he could ever invent it - decisively refers to the warm presence of tears about to burst from eyelids that feel the liquid bitterness. ‘I feel like tears’! The small child aptly defined his spiral.
To say! To know how to say! To know how to exist via the written voice and the intellectual image! This is all that matters in life; the rest is men and women, imagined loves and factitious vanities, the wiles of our digestion and forgetfulness, people squirming- like worms when a rock is lifted - under the huge abstract boulder of the meaningless blue sky.
Stichwörter: writing literature childhood definition
I believe in the World as in a daisy.
Because I see it. But I don’t think about it
Because thinking is not understanding…
In me all affections take place on the surface, but sincerely. I've always been an actor, and in earnest. Whenever I've loved, I've pretended to love, pretending it even to myself.
Fernando PessoaTo have touched the feet of Christ is no excuse for mistakes in punctuation.
If a man writes well only when he's drunk, then I'll tell him: Get drunk. And if he says that it's bad for his liver, I'll answer: What's your liver? A dead thing that lives while you live, whereas the poems you write live without while.
Stichwörter: poetry writing poets drinking motivation drunkenness punctuation good-writing
Have you ever considered, beloved other, how invisible we are to each other? We look at each other without seeing. We listen to each other and hear only a voice inside out self.
The words of others are mistakes of our hearing, shipwrecks of our understanding. How confidently we believe OUR meanings of other people's words.
Stichwörter: misunderstanding misinterpretation
I fused the beauty of dreaming and the reality of life into a single blissful colour..
...On a clear bright day even the softness of the sounds is golden...
Stichwörter: synaesthesia
Ho vissuto tanto senza aver vissuto! Ho pensato tanto senza aver pensato! Mondi di violenze immobili, di avventure trascorse senza movimento, pesano su di me. Sono stanco di ciò che non ho mai avuto e che non avrò, stanco di Dei che non esistono. Porto con me le ferite di tutte le battaglie che ho evitato. Il mio corpo è dolorante per lo sforzo che non ho nemmeno pensato di fare.
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