Quotes About Reality

Lo que hay de mediocre en los sueños es que todo mundo los tiene.

Posso immaginare tutto perché non sono niente. Se fossi qualcosa non potrei immaginare.

All beauty is a dream, even if it exists, For beauty is always more than it is. The beauty I see in you Isn't here, next to me. What I see in you lives where I dream, Far away from here. If you exist, I only know it Because I just dreamed it. — Fernando Pessoa, from "All beauty is a dream, even if it exists," 22 April 1934, A Little Larger Than the Entire Universe: Selected Poems , ed. & transl. Richard Zenith (Penguin Classics, 2006)

Only at night and all alone, withdrawn, forgotten and lost, with no connection to anything real or useful – only then do I find myself and feel comforted.

The only way to survive in this world is by keeping alive our dream, without ever fulfilling it, since the fulfilment never measures up to what we imagine.

Acima da verdade estão os deuses. A nossa ciência é falhada cópia Da certeza com que eles Sabem que há o Universo.

There is no body or truth we possess, nor even any illusion. We are phantoms made of lies. Shadows of illusions, our lives are hollow on both the outside and the inside.

Somos muerte. Esto, que consideramos vida, es el sueño de la vida real, la muerte de lo que verdaderamente somos.

Reality is made up of what is common and shared. That's why we as individuals only exist in the spurious part of our sensations.

The weariness of all illusions and of everything that illusions involve — the loss of them, the pointlessness of having them, the anticipatory weariness of having to have them in order to lose them, the pain of having had them, the intellectual shame of having had them knowing how they would end.

Zeii n-au decât s?-mi modifice visurile,îns? nu ÅŸi darul de a visa.

Everything was sleeping as if the universe were a mistake.

Não sei se é amor que tens, ou amor que finges, O que me dás. Dás-mo. Tanto me basta. Já que o não sou por tempo, Seja eu jovem por erro. Pouco os deuses nos dão, e o pouco é falso. Porém, se o dão, falso que seja, a dádiva É verdadeira. Aceito, Cerro olhos: é bastante. Que mais quero?

We don't even know if what ends with daylight terminates in us as useless grief, or if we are just an illusion among shadows, and reality just this vast silence without wild ducks that falls over the lakes where straight and stiff reeds swoon. We know nothing. Gone is the memory of the stories we heard as children, now so much seaweed; still to come is the tenderness of future skies, a breeze in which imprecision slowly opens into stars.

El misterio de la vida nos duele y nos aterra de muchas formas. Unas veces cae sobre nosotros como un fantasma sin forma, y el alma tiembla con el peor de los miedos, el de la encarnación disforme del no ser. Otras veces está detrás de nosotros, visible sólo cuando no nos damos la vuelta para ver, y es toda la verdad de su terror profundísimo de que nunca la conoceremos.

Estás só. Ninguém o sabe. Cala e finge. Mas finge sem fingimento. Nada 'speres que em ti já não exista, Cada um consigo é triste. Tens sol se há sol, ramos se ramos buscas, Sorte se a sorte é dada.

?mier? wed?ug mnie to zakr?t drogi. Umrze? - wymyka? si? spojrzeniu. S?ucham i s?ysz? jak odchodzisz, Trwaj?c jak ja przy swym istnieniu. Ziemia jest przecie? z nieba ca?a. K?amstwu wszak nikt nie uwi? gniazda. Ka?dy tu kiedy? si? odnalaz? ?wiadom, ?e droga w kr?g i prawda

Civilization consists in giving something a name that doesn't belong to it and then dreaming over the result.

Viajar? Para viajar basta existir. Vou de dia para dia, como de estação para estação, no comboio do meu corpo (...) A vida é o que fazemos dela. As viagens são os viajantes. O que vemos, não é o que vemos, senão o que somos

The astonishing reality of things, Is my discovery every day, Each thing is what it is, And it's hard to explain to someone how happy this makes me, And how much this suffices me.

La morte è la curva della strada Morire è solo non essere visto. Se ascolto, sento i tuoi passi Esistere come io esisto La terra è fatta di cielo Non ha nido la menzogna Mai nessuno si è smarrito Tutto è verità e passaggio

Durmo e desdurmo.

Life is whatever we conceive it to be. For the farmer who considers his field to be everything, the field is an empire. For a Caesar whose empire is still not enough, the empire is a field. The poor man possesses an empire, the great man a field. All that we truly possess are our own sensations; it is in them, rather than in what they sense, that we must base our life's reality.

Onder het wandelen bedenk ik vaak volmaakte zinnen, die ik me later thuis niet meer kan herinneren. Ik weet niet of de ontzaglijke poëtische kracht van die zinnen berust op hun inhoud of op het feit dat ze nooit hebben bestaan.