Isn't joyful or painful this pain in which I rejoice
I realize that I was all error and deviation, that I never lived, that I existed only in so far as I filled time with consciousness and thought.
Wasting time has an esthetics to it.
Ser compreendido é prostituir-se.
And let our despite go to those who work and fight and our hate to those who hope and trust.
To choose ways of not acting was ever the concern and scruple of my life.
Everything is absurd.
Action men are the unvoluntary slaves of wise men.
I am the suburb of a non-existent town, the prolix commentary on a book never written. I am nobody, nobody. I am a character in a novel which remains to be written, and I float, aerial, scattered without ever having been, among the dreams of a creature who did not know how to finish me off.
And as well as I dream, I reason if I want, for that's just another kind of dream.
God wills, man dreams, the work is born.
My curiosity sister of larks.
What can I expect from myself? My sensation in all their horrible acuity, and a profound awareness of feeling. A sharp mind that only destroys me, and an unusual capacity for dreaming to keep me entertained. A dead will and a reflection that cradles it, like a living child. From, The Book of Disquiet
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.
The Gods sell when they give. Glory is paid for with disgrace. Poor are the happy, for they are Just what passes.
Fraternity has subtleties.
For valuing your own suffering sets on it the gold of a sun of pride. Suffering a lot can originate the illusion of being the Chosen of Pain.
To live is to be someone else. Feeling is impossible if we feel today as we felt yesterday: to feel today the same thing we felt yesterday is not to feel at all--it's merely to remember today what we felt yesterday, since today we are the living cadaver of yesterday's lost life.
What Hells and Purgatories and Heavens I have inside of me! But who sees me do anything that disagrees with life--me, so calm and peaceful?
The slope takes you to the windmill, but effort takes you nowhere.
pg.9 "In my heart there's a peaceful anguish, and my calm is made of resignation.
Civilization consists in giving something an unfitting name, then dream about the result. And indeed the false name and the real dream create a new reality. The object really becomes another, because we turned it into another one. We manufacture realities.
To narrate is to create, for living is just being lived.
Attention to detail and a perfectionist instinct, far from stimulating action, are character qualities that lead to renunciation. Better to dream than to be.
We, all who live, have A life that is lived And another life that is thought, And the only life we have It's the one that is divided In right or wrong.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: