Quotes from Fernando Pessoa

There's no greater proof of an impoverished mind than its inability to be witty except at other people's expense.

O homem é do tamanho do seu sonho

The rustic, the reader of novels, the pure ascetic: these three are truly happy men

O que é preciso é ser-se natural e calmo Na felicidade ou na infelicidade, Sentir como quem olha, Pensar como quem anda, E quando se vai morrer, lembrar-se de que o dia morre, E que o poente é belo e é bela a noite que fica...

The entire life of the human soul is mere motions in the shadows. We live in a twilight of consciousness, never in accord with whom we are or think we are. Everyone harbours some kind of vanity, and there's an error whose degree we can't determine. We're something that goes on during the show's intermission; sometimes, through certain doors, we catch a glimpse of what may be no more than scenery. The world is one big confusion, like voices in the night.

I sleep and unsleep.

A nossa alma e o céu e a terra bastam-nos.     Querer mais é perder isto, e ser infeliz.

The presence of another person derails my thoughts; I dream of the other's presence with a strange absent-mindedness that no amount of my analytical scrutiny can define.

Were we as we should be, We wouldn't need any illusions . . .

Every man of action is basically cheerful and optimistic, because those who don't feel are happy. You can spot a man of action by the fact he's never out of sorts.

Isolation has carved me in its image and likeness.

Every gesture is a dead dream.

Güte ist das Feingefühl roher Seelen.

The divine fact of existing shouldn't be surrendered to the satanic fact of coexisting.

Três vezes do leme as mãos ergueu, Três vezes ao leme as reprendeu, E disse no fim de tremer três vezes: «Aqui ao leme sou mais do que eu: Sou um Povo que quer o que é teu; E mais que o mostrengo, que me a alma teme E roda nas trevas do fim do mundo, Manda a vontade, que me ata ao leme, De El-rei D. João Segundo!»

The higher a man rises, the more things he must do without. There's no room on the pinnacle except for the man himself. The more perfect he is, the more complete; and the more complete, the less other.

What's attacking me now is a direct humanitarianism ...

La literatura, como cualquier forma de arte, es la confesión de que la vida no basta.

Omnia fui, nihil expedit – I have been everything, nothing is worth anything.

Cansado do universo e sociedade, Da abstracção que não finda o que é fundo Do meu fatal pôr-olhos sobre o mundo, Pobre de amor e rico de ansiedade, Já nada me seduz nem me persuade.

We never love anyone. What we love is the idea we have of someone. It's our own concept – our own selves – that we love.

With slight misconceptions of reality we fabricate our hopes and beliefs, and we live off crusts that we call cakes, like poor children who make-believe they're happy.

The only intellectual attitude worthy of a superior creature is a feeling of calm, cool compassion for everything that is not himself.

The search for the truth — whether the subjective truth of one's own convictions, the objective truth of reality or the social truth of money or power — always brings with it, if the searcher in question deserves the prize, the ultimate knowledge that the truth does not exist.