Silence emerges from the sound of rain and spreads in a crescendo of gray monotony over the narrow street I contemplate. Iโm sleeping while awake, standing by the window, leaning against it as against everything. I search in myself for the sensations I feel before these falling threads of darkly luminous water that stand out from the grimy building facades and especially from the open windows. And I donโt know what I feel or what I want to feel. I donโt know what to think or where I am.
Fernando PessoaI sometimes think that I enjoy suffering. But the truth is I would prefer something else.
Fernando PessoaIn the ordinary jumble of my literary drawer, I sometimes find texts I wrote ten, fifteen, or even more years ago. And many of them seem to me written by a stranger: I simply do not recognize myself in them. There was a person who wrote them, and it was I. I experienced them, but it was in another life, from which I just woke up, as if from someone else's dream.
Fernando PessoaThe principle tragedy of my life is, like all tragedies, an irony of Destiny. I reject real life as if it were a condemnation; I reject dreams as if they were an ignoble liberation. [...]After the end of the stars uselessly whitened in the morning sky and the breeze became less cold in the barely orange tinged in the yellow of the light on the scattered low clouds, I, who hadn't slept, could finally, slowly raise my body, exhausted from nothing from the bed from which I had thought the universe.
Fernando PessoaSilence emerges from the sound of rain and spreads in a crescendo of gray monotony over the narrow street I contemplate. Iโm sleeping while awake, standing by the window, leaning against it as against everything. I search in myself for the sensations I feel before these falling threads of darkly luminous water that stand out from the grimy building facades and especially from the open windows. And I donโt know what I feel or what I want to feel. I donโt know what to think or where I am.
Fernando Pessoa