Nobody appropriates novelties as readily as the Portuguese.

I never had anyone I could call “Master”. No Christ died for me. No Buddha showed me the right path. In the depths of my dreams no Apollo or Athena appeared to me to enlighten my soul

Life is what we make of it. Travel is the traveler. What we see isn't what we see but what we are.

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.

Wise is he who enjoys the show offered by the world.

But I am not perfect in my way of putting things Because I lack the divine simplicity Of being only what I appear to be.

Whenever someone tells me he dreamed, I wonder if he realizes that he has never done anything but dream.