The destiny of not being able to desire without knowing that I shall have to not-have has persecuted me like a malignant being. If I see a nubile young girl's face, no matter how indifferent it may be, I have only a moment to imagine what it would be like if she were mine because it always happens that ten steps from my dream the girl meets the man I can see is her husband or lover. A romantic would make a tragedy out of this; a stranger would sense it to be a comedy: I, however, mix the two things, since I am romantic in myself and strange to myself, and I turn the page to get to yet another irony.
-Fernando Pessoa
Ironic spectator of myself, I still haven't lost the courage to witness life. And since I know, today, in advance of every vague hope, that it will be disillusioned, I suffer the special pleasure of enjoying my disillusion with my hope, like a bitter with a sweet that turns the sweet against the bitter.
-Fernando Pessoa
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I am taking Pessoa more and more seriously by each word every sentence at face value, on a sociological and social scientific level. This man has changed my entire perception of life and my own individuality.
- Marco Almeida
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Fernando Pessoa speaking of subject re; nothingness / that nothing can exist in that we know nothing. Pessoa states: the ceasing to exist of something that in no way can exist. - Marco Almeida
This follows...
It sometimes happens - and it always happens to me in a single rush - that in the midst of my sensations there arises within me a tiredness of life so terrible I can't even formulate a hypothesis for some action that might dominate it.
I think I occasionally glimpse something of this ambition, which is more negative than nothingness. But either those speculations lack the sharpness of sensation to be able to tell what they think or they lack the acuity of thought to feel what they feel I that way. The fact is that I think I'm the first to put into words the sinister absurdity of this sensation for which there is no cure.
I cure it by writing it down. Yes, there is no desolation - if it is really profound and not just pure emotion - without the intelligence having some part in it it, for which there exists the ironic remedy of saying it doesn't exist.
I literature had no other purpose, it would have thus one, if only for a few people.
-Fernando Pessoa
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It sometimes happens - and it always happens to me in a single rush - that in the midst of my sensations there arises within me a tiredness of life so terrible I can't even formulate a hypothesis for some action that might dominate it.
-Fernando Pessoa
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Richard Rorty
Sometimes I think about how beautiful it would be to be able, my dreams, to create myself a continuous life, succeeding itself, within the flow of entire days, with imaginary guests, with created people, and go along living, suffering, enjoying that false life. There I would suffer disasters; great joys would shower on me. And nothing of me would be real. But it would all have a proud, serious logic, all of it according to a rhythm of voluptuous falsity, all of it taking place on a city made from my soul, lost up to the platform alongside a calm train, very far within me, very far.... And all dear, inevitable, as in exterior life, but the aesthetics of the Death of the Sun.
-Fernando Pessoa
I myself do not know if this I that I reveal to you in these serpentine pages really exists or if it is only an aesthetic, false conceit that I made of myself. Yes, that's the way things are. I live myself aesthetically in another. I sculpted my life like a statue made of material different from my being. Sometimes I do not recognize myself, so external am I to myself and in so purely artistic a fashion did I use my awareness of myself. Who am I behind this unreality? I don't know. I must be someone. And if I do not seek to live - act, or feel, it is - believe me - so that I don't distort the established lines of my false personality.
I want to be a work of art, at least of the soul, since I cannot be one of the body. For that reason I sculpted myself in a calm and madness and I put myself in a kiln, far from the fresh air and honest lights - where my artificiality, an absurd flower, can flourish in distant beauty.
-Fernando Pessoa
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Socrates: The holy has been acknowledged by us to be loved of God because it is holy, not to be holy because it is loved (Euthyphro)
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