Quotes About Introspection

Eu que me aguente comigo e com os comigos de mim.

There's enough metaphysics in not thinking about anything.

Escrever é esquecer. A literatura é a maneira mais agradável de ignorar a vida

Everything that happens where we live happens in us. Everything that ceases in what we see ceases in us. Everything that has been, if we saw it when it was, was taken from us when it went away.

And leaning out the window, enjoying the day above the varying volume of the entire city, only one thought swells my soul – the intimate will to die, to finish, not to see more light over any city, not to think, not to feel, to leave behind like wrapping paper the course of the sun and the days, to rid myself, at the edge of the grand bed, as of a heavy suit, of the involuntary effort to be.

The human soul is an abyss

I don't complain about the horror of life; I complain about the horror of my life. The only fact I worry about is that I exist and suffer and can't even dream of being removed from my feeling of suffering.

O meu sentimento é cinza Da minha imaginação, E eu deixo cair a cinza No cinzeiro da Razão.

Ser poeta não é uma ambição minha. É a minha maneira de estar sózinho.

A sensitive and honest-minded man, if he's concerned about evil and injustice in the world, will naturally begin his campaign against them by eliminating them at their nearest source: his own person. This task will take his entire life.

There are moments, such as the one that oppresses me now, when I feel my own self far more than I feel external things, and everything transforms into a night of rain and mud where, lost in the solitude of an out-of-the-way station, I wait interminably for the next third-class train.

To organize our life in such a way that it becomes a mystery to others, that those who are closest to us will only be closer to not knowing us. That is how I've shaped my life, almost without thinking about it, but I did it with so much instinctive art that even to myself I've become a not entirely clear and definite individual.

Let's develop theories patiently and honestly thinking them out, in order to promptly act against them - acting and justifying our actions with new theories that condemn them. Let's cut a path in life then go immediately against that path. Let's adopt all the poses and gestures of something we aren't and don't even wish to be, and don't even wish to taken for being.

It's been a long time since i've been me.

I want to be a work of art, at least in my soul, since I can't be one in my body.

And I don't know what I feel or what I want to feel. I don't know what to think or what I am.

I had come from wondrous lands, from landscapes more enchanting than life, but only to myself did I ever mention these lands, and I said nothing about the landscapes which I saw in dreams. My feet stepped like theirs over the floorboards and the flagstones, but my heart was far away, even if it beat close by, false master of an estranged and exiled body.

I am tired of myself in every way. All things, deep down to the secret of their roots, are stained by the color of my weariness.

No-one loves another More than he loves whatever another within may have That is part of one's self

I created myself, echo and abyss, by thinking. I multiplied myself by going deeply into myself...

12. Se escrevo o que sinto é porque assim diminuo a febre de sentir. O que confesso não tem importância, pois nada tem importância Por: Bernado Soares In: Livro do Desassossego

I have to choose what I detest – either dreaming, which my intelligence hates, or action, which my sensibility loathes; either action, for which I wasn't born, or dreaming, for which no one was born. Detesting both, I choose neither; but since I must on occasion either dream or act, I mix the two things together.

Ich bin es müde, geträumt zu haben, freilich nicht müde zu träumen.

Sim, eis o que os meus sentidos aprenderam sozinhos: — As cousas não têm significação: têm existência. As cousas são o único sentido oculto das cousas.