Life is full of paradoxes, as roses are of thorns.

Should I be what I think? But I think about being so many things!

I know nothing and my heart aches

When all by myself, I can think of all kinds of clever remarks, quick comebacks to what no one said, and flashes of witty sociability with nobody. But all of this vanishes when I face someone in the flesh: I lose my intelligence, I can no longer speak, and after half an hour I just feel tired. Talking to people makes me feel like sleeping. Only my ghostly and imaginary friends, only the conversations I have in my dreams, are genuinely real and substantial.

Never having discovered qualities in myself which could attract someone else, I could never believe that anyone felt attracted to me.

Nobody appropriates novelties as readily as the Portuguese.

I realize that, while often happy and often cheerful, I am always sad.