The value of things is not the time they last, but the intensity with which they occur. That is why there are unforgettable moments and unique people!
Life is what we make of it. Travel is the traveler. What we see isn't what we see but what we are.
The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd - The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.
Stones in the road? I save every single one, and one day I'll build a castle.
There is a time when it is necessary to abandon the used clothes, which already have the shape of our body and to forget our paths, which takes us always to the same places. This is the time to cross the river: and if we don't dare to do it, we will have stayed, forever beneath ourselves
I wasn’t meant for reality, but life came and found me.
I am nothing. I'll never be anything. I couldn't want to be something. Apart from that, I have in me all the dreams in the world.
If you cannot live alone, you were born a slave.
Everything is worthwhile if the soul is not small.
There are no norms. All people are exceptions to a rule that doesn’t exist.
I look at myself but I'm missing. I know myself: it’s not me.
My happiest hours are those in which I think nothing, want nothing, when I do not even dream, but lose myself in some spurious vegetable torpor, moss growing on the surface of life. Without a trace of bitterness I savour my absurd awareness of being nothing, a mere foretaste of death and extinction.
I bear the wounds of all the battles I avoided.
I’m beginning to know myself. I don’t exist. I’m the space between what I’d like to be and what others made of me. Just let me be at ease and all by myself in my room.
To be understood is to prostitute oneself
For who expects nothing, all that comes is grateful
We never love anyone. What we love is the idea we have of someone. It's our own concept—our own selves—that we love.
In today's life, the world belongs only to the stupid, the insensitive and the agitated. The right to live and triumph is now conquered almost by the same means by which you conquer internment in an asylum: the inability to think, amorality and hiperexcitation.
My soul is a hidden orchestra; I know not what instruments, what fiddlestrings and harps, drums and tamboura I sound and clash inside myself. All I hear is the symphony.
I'd woken up early, and I took a long time getting ready to exist.
To be great, be whole; Exclude nothing. Be whole in everything.
Wise is he who enjoys the show offered by the world.
Art consists in making others feel what we feel.
Solitude desolates me; company oppresses me.
It's been a long time since I've been me.
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