srcµ > srcµ's Quotes

“I’m in no hurry: the sun and the moon aren’t, either.
Nobody goes faster than the legs they have.
If where I want to go is far away, I’m not there in an instant.”
― Alberto Caeiro, The Collected Poems of Alberto Caeiro

“Night doesn’t fall for my eyes
But my idea of the night is that it falls for my eyes.
Beyond my thinking and having any thoughts
The night falls concretely
And the shining of stars exists like it had weight.”
― Alberto Caeiro, The Collected Poems of Alberto Caeiro

“Pouco me importa.
Pouco me importa o quê?
Não sei: pouco me importa.”
― Fernando Pessoa, Poemas completos de Alberto Caeiro

“We worship perfection because we can't have it; if we had it, we would reject it. Perfection is inhuman, because humanity is imperfect.”
― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”
― Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

“Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.”
― Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

“Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life.”
― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

“I wasn’t meant for reality, but life came and found me.”
― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

“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.”
― Fernando Pessoa

“I feel as if I'm always on the verge of waking up.”
― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

“I bear the wounds of all the battles I avoided.”
― Fernando Pessoa

“I've never done anything but dream. This, and this alone, has been the meaning of my life. My only real concern has been my inner life.”
― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

“Marcela amou-me durante quinze meses e onze contos de réis”
― Machado de Assis, Memórias póstumas de Brás Cubas

“Este último capítulo é todo de negativas. Não alcancei a celebridade do emplasto, não fui ministro, não fui califa, não conheci o casamento. Verdade é que, ao lado dessas faltas, coube-me a boa fortuna de não comprar o pão com o suor do meu rosto. Mais; não padeci a morte de D. Plácida, nem a semidemência do Quincas Borba. Somadas umas coisas e outras, qualquer pessoa imaginará que não houve míngua nem sobra, e conseguintemente que saí quite com a vida. E imaginará mal; porque ao chegar a este outro lado do mistério, achei-me com um pequeno saldo, que é a derradeira negativa deste capítulo de negativas: — Não tive filhos, não transmiti a nenhuma criatura o legado da nossa miséria.”
― Machado de Assis, Memórias póstumas de Brás Cubas

“Matamos o tempo, o tempo nos enterra.”
― Machado de Assis, Memórias póstumas de Brás Cubas

“Let Pascal say that man is a thinking reed. He is wrong; man is a thinking erratum. Each period in life is a new edition that corrects the preceding one and that in turn will be corrected by the next, until publication of the definitive edition, which the publisher donates to the worms.”
― Machado de Assis, Memórias póstumas de Brás Cubas

“Se aprendesse qualquer coisa, necessitaria aprender mais, e nunca ficaria satisfeito.”
― Graciliano Ramos, Vidas Secas

“Baleia queria dormir. Acordaria feliz, num mundo cheio de preás. E lamberia as mãos de Fabiano, um Fabiano enorme. As crianças se espojariam com ela, rolariam com ela num pátio enorme, num chiqueiro enorme. O mundo ficaria todo cheio de preás, gordos, enormes.”
― Graciliano Ramos, Vidas Secas

“Sabia perfeitamente que era assim, acostumara-se a todas as violências, a todas as injustiças. E aos conhecidos que dormiam no tronco e aguentavam cipó de boi oferecia consolações: — “Tenha paciência. Apanhar do governo não é desfeita.”
― Graciliano Ramos, Vidas Secas

“Ainda na véspera eram seis viventes, contando com o papagaio. Coitado, morrera na areia do rio, onde haviam descansado, à beira de uma poça: a fome apertara demais os retirantes e por ali não existia sinal de comida. Baleia jantara os pés, a cabeça, os ossos do amigo, e não guardava lembrança disto. Agora, enquanto parava, dirigia as pupilas brilhantes aos objetos familiares, estranhava não ver sobre o baú de folha a gaiola pequena onde a ave se equilibrava mal.”
― Graciliano Ramos, Vidas Secas

“Os meninos eram uns brutos, como o pai. Quando crescessem, guardariam as reses de um patrão invisível, seriam pisados, maltratados, machucados por um soldado amarelo”
― Graciliano Ramos, Vidas Secas

“Pois não estavam vendo que ele era de carne e osso? Tinha obrigação de trabalhar para os outros, naturalmente, conhecia o seu lugar. Bem. Nascera com esse destino, ninguém tinha culpa de ele haver nascido com um destino ruim. Que fazer? Podia mudar a sorte? Se lhe dissessem que era possível melhorar de situação, espantar-se-ia. Tinha vindo ao mundo para amansar brabo, curar feridas com rezas, consertar cercas de inverno a verão. Era sina. O pai vivera assim, o avô também. E para trás não existia família. Cortar mandacaru, ensebar látegos — aquilo estava no sangue. Conformava-se, não pretendia mais nada. Se lhe dessem o que era dele, estava certo. Não davam. Era um desgraçado, era como um cachorro, só recebia ossos. Por que seria que os homens ricos ainda lhe tomavam uma parte dos ossos? Fazia até nojo pessoas importantes se ocuparem com semelhantes porcarias.”
― Graciliano Ramos, Vidas Secas

“Can it be that I have not lived as one ought?" suddenly came into his head. "But how not so, when I've done everything as it should be done?”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“Morning or night, Friday or Sunday, made no difference, everything was the same: the gnawing, excruciating, incessant pain; that awareness of life irrevocably passing but not yet gone; that dreadful, loathsome death, the only reality, relentlessly closing in on him; and that same endless lie. What did days, weeks, or hours matter?”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“Always the same. Now a spark of hope flashes up, then a sea of despair rages, and always pain; always pain, always despair, and always the same. When alone he had a dreadful and distressing desire to call someone, but he knew beforehand that with others present it would be still worse.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“Death is finished, he said to himself. It is no more!”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“False. Everything by which you have lived and live now is all a deception, a lie, concealing both life and death from you.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“And he has to live like this on the edge of destruction, alone, with nobody at all to understand or pity him”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“It can't be that life is so senseless and horrible. But if it really has been so horrible and senseless, why must I die and die in agony? There is something wrong!”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“Ivan Iylich saw that he was dying, and was in continual despair.
At the bottom of his heart Ivan Ilyich knew that he was dying; but so far from growing used to the idea, he simply did not grasp it - he was utterly unable to grasp it.
The example of the syllogism that he had learned in Kiseveter's logic - Caius is a man, men are mortal, therefore Caius is mortal - had seemed to him all his life correct only as regards Caius, but not at all regards himself. In that case it was a question of Caius, a man, an abstract man, and it was perfectly true, but he was not Caius, and was not an abstract man; he had always been a creature quite, quite different from all the others.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych