Afinal, se coisas boas se vão é para que coisas melhores possam vir. Esqueça o passado, desapego é o segredo!
Fernando PessoaDesapegar-se, é renovar votos de esperança de si mesmo,
É dar-se uma nova oportunidade de construir uma nova história melhor.
Liberte-se de tudo aquilo que não tem te feito bem, daquilo que já não tem nenhum valor, e siga, siga novos rumos, desvende novos mundos.
الجَمالُ اسمٌ لشيءٍ لا يوجد، وأمنحه للأشياء لقاء المتعة التي تمنحني إيّاها
Fernando PessoaHappy the creators of pessimistic systems! Besides taking refuge in the fact of having made something, they can exult in their explanation of universal suffering, and include themselves in it.
I don't complain about the world. I don't protest in the name of the universe. I'm not a pessimist. I suffer and complain, but I don't know if suffering is the norm, nor do I know if it's human to suffer. Why should I care to know?
I suffer, without knowing if I deserve to. (A hunted doe.)
I'm not a pessimist. I'm sad.
To live is to be other. It’s not even possible to feel, if one feels today what he felt yesterday. To feel today what one felt yesterday isn’t to feel – it’s to remember today what was felt yesterday, to be today’s living corpse of what yesterday was lived and lost.
To erase everything from the slate from one day to the next, to be new with each new morning, in a perpetual revival of our emotional virginity – this, and only this, is worth being or having, to be or have what we imperfectly are.
This dawn is the first dawn of the world. Never did this pink colour yellowing to a warm white so tinge, towards the west, the face of the buildings whose windowpane eyes gaze upon the silence brought by the growing light. There was never this hour, nor this light, nor this person that’s me. What will be tomorrow will be something else, and what I see will be seen by reconstituted eyes, full of a new vision.
High city hills! Great marvels of architecture that the steep slopes secure and make even greater, motley chaos of heaped up buildings that the daylight weaves together with bright spots and shadows – you are today, you are me, because I see you, you are what [I’ll be] tomorrow, and I love you from the deck rail as when two ships pass, and there’s a mysterious longing and regret in their passing.
All of life’s unpleasant experiences – when we make fools of ourselves, act thoughtlessly, or lapse in our observance of some virtue – should be regarded as mere external accidents which can’t affect the substance of our soul. We should see them as toothaches or calluses of life, as things that bother us but remain outside us (even though they’re ours), or that only our organic existence need consider and our vital functions worry about.
When we achieve this attitude, which in essence is that of the mystics, we’re protected not only from the world but also from ourselves, for we’ve conquered what is foreign in us, contrary and external to us, and therefore our enemy.
Horace said* that the just man will remain undaunted, even if the world crumbles all around him. Although the image is absurd, the point is valid. Even if what we pretend to be (because we coexist with others) crumbles around us, we should remain undaunted – not because we’re just, but because we’re ourselves, and to be ourselves means having nothing to do with external things that crumble, even if they crumble right on top of what for them we are.
For superior men, life should, life should be a dream that spurns confrontations.
on the road halfway between faith and criticism stands the inn of reason. reason is faith in what can be understood without faith, but it's still a faith, since to understand presupposes that there's something understandable.
Fernando PessoaMots clés 176 happy-playgrounds the-inn-of-reason
a reformer is a man who sees the world's superficial ills and sets out to cure them by aggravating the more basic ills.
Fernando PessoaMots clés 161 happy-playgrounds happy-camping
inside the coop where he'll stay until he's killed, the rooster sings anthems to liberty because he was given two roosts.
Fernando PessoaMots clés happy-playgrounds happy-campers
O exemplo máximo do homem prático, porque reúne a extrema concentração da acção com a sua extrema importância, é a do estratégico. Toda a vida é guerra, e a batalha é, pois, a síntese da vida. Ora o estratégico é um homem que joga com vidas como o jogador de xadrez com peças do jogo. Que seria do estratégico se pensasse que cada lance do seu jogo põe noite em mil lares e mágoa em três mil corações? Que seria do mundo se fôssemos humanos? Se o homem sentisse deveras não haveria civilização. A arte serve de fuga para a sensibilidade que a acção teve que esquecer. A arte é a Gata Borralheira, que ficou em casa porque teve que ser.
Fernando PessoaMots clés guerra arte reflexão humanidade batalha ação jogo estratégia
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