All I ever asked of life was that it should pass me by without my even noticing it.
You've never heard the wind blow. The wind only speaks of the wind. What you heard was a lie, And the lie is in you.
Each of us is several, is many,is a profusion of selves. So that the self who disdains his surroundings is not the same as the self who suffers or takes joy in them. In the vast colony of our being there are many species of people who think and feel in different ways. Livro Do Desassossego.
Sleep is fusion with God, Nirvana, however it be called.
Life is what we make of it. Travel is the traveler. What we see isn't what we see but what we are.
It seems that what's artificial has become natural, and what's natural is now strange. Or rather, it's not that what's artificial has become natural; it's simply that what's natural has changed.