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!

To explain is to disbelieve.

My life is so sad, and yet I do not even consider weeping over it; my hours are so false, and I do not even dream the gesture that might end them.

I'd woken up early, and I took a long time getting ready to exist. I paced from one side of the room to the other, dreaming out loud incoherent and impossible things – deeds I'd forgotten to do, hopeless ambitions haphazardly realized, fluid and lively conversations which, were they to be, would already have been.

The presence of another person derails my thoughts; I dream of the other's presence with a strange absent-mindedness that no amount of my analytical scrutiny can define.

There's a non-existent peace in the uncertain quietness.

Some metaphors are more real than the people you see walking down the street.

Only the idea can fathom reality without getting ruined.

May the Gods all preserve for me (until my present form ceases) this clear and sunlit view of external reality, the instinctive awareness of my unimportance, the cosiness of being small, and the solace of being able to imagine myself happy.

It offends me that a man can master the Devil, but not the Portuguese language.

The true landscapes are those that we ourselves create since, being their gods, we see them as they truly are, which is however we created them.

I know not what tomorrow will bring.

I'll be in an institution for paupers, happy in my utter defeat, mixed up with the rabble of would-be geniuses who were no more than beggars with dreams, thrown in with the anonymous throng of those who didn't have strength enough to conquer nor renunciation enough to conquer by not competing.