But my sadness is comforting Because it’s right and natural And because it’s what the soul should feel When it already thinks it exists And the hand pick flowers And the soul takes no notice.

The 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.

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

I never meant to be but a dreamer.

To choose ways of not acting was ever the concern and scruple of my life.

I believe that saying a thing is to keep its virtues and take away its terror.

My homeland is the portuguese language.