60 Phrases by Fernando Pessoa – About LOVE and LIFE

Ancient sailors had a glorious phrase: “Sailing is necessary, living is not.”

Living is not necessary, what is necessary is creating…

Look at life from afar… never question it. She can tell you nothing, the answer is beyond the gods.

To those who, like me, living like this, do not know how to have life, what is left for them but, like my few peers, renunciation as a mode and contemplation as a destiny?

What I didn’t get right in life, I will find in death; Life is divided between who I am and luck.

Other times I hear the wind go by, and it seems to me that just to hear the wind go by is it worth having been born.

Between life and me there is a faint glass. No matter how clearly I see and understand life, I cannot touch it.

Living itself is dying, because there is not one more day in our life that is not one less day in life.

I always live in the present, I don’t know the future and I no longer have the past.

Seeing and hearing are the only noble things in life. The other senses are plebeian and carnal. The only aristocracy is never touching.

Most people think sensitively, and I feel with thought.

For the common man, feeling is living and thinking is knowing how to live. For me, thinking is living and feeling is nothing more than food for thought.

I have never faced suicide as a solution, because I hate life for the love of it.

Not knowing about oneself; That is living. Knowing badly about yourself, that is thinking.

Nobody understands another. We are, as the poet said, islands in the sea of ​​life.

I have not asked life except that it not ask me for anything.

The awareness of the unconsciousness of life is the oldest tax that falls on intelligence.

Freedom is the possibility of isolation. If it is impossible for you to live alone, you were born a slave.

Some have a big dream in life and they lack that dream. Others do not have dreams in their lives and they are also missing this one.

But do we really live? Living without knowing what life is… is it living?

Practical life has always seemed to me the least comfortable of suicides.

Better not to flow in life, better to dry up from dreaming so much.

The sea that defines us and separates us runs between us.

Spinning, distracting reason, that wind-up toy called the heart.

We never love anyone. We love only the idea we have of someone. It is a concept of ours – in short, ourselves – that we love.

Love, when it is revealed, cannot be revealed. He knows how to look at her, but he doesn’t know how to talk to her about her.

I love how you love love. I don’t know any other reason to love than to love. What do you want me to tell you, besides that I love you, if what I want to tell you is that I love you?

To love is to get tired of being alone: ​​therefore, it is cowardice and a betrayal of ourselves.

Loving is annoying, but perhaps it is preferable to not loving.

That is why there is no advantage in giving things the wrong names, or even in giving them any names at all.

Love is a dream that comes for the little being that is.

All love letters are ridiculous. They would not be love letters if they were not ridiculous.

I have thoughts that, if I could reveal them and make them live, would add new luminosity to the stars, new beauty to the world and greater love to the hearts of men.

Love is only beautiful when we find someone who makes us better than we can be.

We can die if we only love.

I glimpsed, like an avenue through the trees, what perhaps is the Great Secret… that Great Mystery that the poets speak of.

We worship perfection because we cannot possess it; It would disgust us if we owned it. The perfect is inhuman, because the human is imperfect.

I love everything that was. Everything that is no longer. Just because it was and it flew. And today is another day.

Love is a mortal token of immortality.

The freshness of the mornings in which you arrive, and the paleness of the mornings in which you leave. When our insides shake…

If I lived a great love, I would never be able to tell it.

It’s easy to kiss the face, it’s difficult to reach the heart…

The more different someone is from me, the more real they seem to me, because the less they depend on my subjectivity.

Feeling is creating. To feel is to think without ideas and, therefore, to feel is to understand, since the Universe has no ideas.

Not pleasure, not glory, not power; freedom, only freedom.

We are avatars of past stupidity.

Things have no meaning: they have existence. Things are the only hidden meaning of things.

We never know when we are sincere and perhaps we never will be. And even if we were sincere today, tomorrow we can be sincere in the face of a contrary cause…

The outside world exists like an actor on a stage: it is there but it is something else.

Put everything you are into the minimum you do.

Literature exists because the world is not enough.

Killing the dream is killing ourselves. It is mutilating our soul. The dream is what we have of our own, of our impenetrable and impregnable.

We all have ways of being despised. Each one of us brings with him a crime committed or the crime that the soul asks him to do.

Our personality must be incorruptible, even by ourselves: hence our duty to always dream and to include ourselves in our dreams…

I feel so isolated that I can feel the distance between me and my presence.

To possess is to lose. To feel without possessing is to conserve, because it is to extract its essence from something.

I was born at a time when most young people had stopped believing in God, for the same reason that their elders had believed in Him.

I have all the dreams in the world about me.

Music, moonlight and dreams are my magic weapons.

We can sell our time, but we cannot buy it back.

Composed of living and disaggregating cells, we are made of death.

The heart, if it could think, would stop.