And as well as I dream, I reason if I want, for that's just another kind of dream.

There's a non-existent peace in the uncertain quietness

One or another man, liberated or cursed, suddenly sees-but even this man sees rarely-that all we are is what we aren't, that we fool ourselves about what's true and are wrong about what we conclude is right. And this man, who in a flash sees the universe naked, creates a philosophy or dreams up a religion; and the philosophy spreads and the religion propagates, and those who believe in the philosophy begin to wear it as a suit they don't see, and those who believe in the religion put it on as a mask they soon forget.

The sea with an end can be Greek or Roman: the endless sea is Portuguese.

The Gods sell when they give. Glory is paid for with disgrace. Poor are the happy, for they are Just what passes.

For who expects nothing, all that comes is grateful

Tomorrow I too – this feeling and thinking soul, the universe I am to myself – yes, tomorrow I too will be someone who no longer walks these streets, someone others will evoke with a vague: 'I wonder what's become of him?” And everything I do, everything I feel, everything I experience, will be just one less passer-by on the daily streets of some city or other.