Sit still with me in the shade of these green trees, which have no weightier thought than the withering of their leaves when autumn arrives, or the stretching of their many stiff fingers into the...

There’s a non-existent peace in the uncertain quietness

To be understood is to prostitute oneself

Existo desde el principio del mundo y, desde entonces, soy un ironista.

Ah, the freshness in the face of leaving a task undone!To be remiss is to be positively out in the country!What a refuge it is to be completely unreliable!I can breathe easier now that the...

The human soul is an abyss

Si la liberación no está dentro de mí, no está, para mi, en ninguna parte.

Without madness what is manBut a wholesome beast,Postponed corpse that begets?

Só o que sonhamos é o que verdadeiramente somos, porque o mais, por estar realizado, pertenece ao mundo e a toda a gente

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.

Amar es cansarse de estar solo: es, por lo tanto, una cobardía y una traición a nosotros mismos.

Only poets and philosophers see the world as it really is, for only to them is it given to live without illusions. To see clearly is to not act.

A tree’s shade is worth more than the knowledge of truth, my sons, for a tree’s shade is true while it lasts, and the knowledge of truth is false in its very truth. The leaves’...

To have touched the feet of Christ is no excuse for mistakes in punctuation.If a man writes well only when he’s drunk, then I’ll tell him: Get drunk. And if he says that it’s bad...

What could anyone confess that would be worth anything or serve any useful purpose? What has happened to us has either happened to everyone or to us alone; if the former it has no novelty...

I know not what tomorrow will bring.

Again I see you, But me I don’t see!, The magical mirror in which I saw myself has been broken, And only a piece of me I see in each fatal fragment – Only a...

The poet is a faker / Who’s so good at his act / He even fakes the pain / Of pain he feels in fact.

Tener opiniones es estar vendido a uno mismo. No tener opiniones es existir. Tener todas las opiniones es ser poeta.

Mejor no fluir en la vida, mejor secarse de tanto soñar.

Perhaps he still hopes. If there’s any justice in the Gods’ injustice, then may they let us keep our dreams, even when they’re impossible, and may our dreams be happy, even when they’re trivial….Every dream...

My past is everything I failed to be.

Nunca he encarado el suicidio como una solución, porque odio la vida por amor a ella.

¡Ah, no hay nostalgia más dolorosa que la de las cosas que nunca han sucedido!

Giving importance to what we think because we thought it, taking our own selves not only (to quote the Greek philosopher) as the measure of all things but as their norm or standard, we create...

Les dieux sont ceux qui ne doutent jamais.

Great mysteries inhabit the threshold of my being.

At first I felt dizzy – not with the kind of dizziness that makes the body reel but the kind that’s like a dead emptiness in the brain, an instinctive awareness of the void.

Isn’t joyful or painful this pain in which I rejoice

Most people are afflicted with an inability to say what they see or think. They say there’s nothing more difficult than to define a spiral in words; they claim it is necessary to use the...

I had the same sensation as when we watch someone sleep. When asleep we all become children again. Perhaps because in the state of slumber we can do no wrong and are unconscious of life,...

Pero ,de verdad vivimos? Vivir sin saber qué es la vida, ,será vivir?.

I had come from wondrous lands, from landscapes more enchanting than life, but only to myself did I ever mention these lands, and I said nothing about the landscapes which I saw in dreams. My...

This little boy playing next to me is an intellectual mass of cells – better yet, he’s a clockwork of subatomic movements, a strange electrical conglomeration of millions of solar systems in minature. [58, Zenith...

O amor é um sonho que chega para o pouco ser que se é.

Son eras sobre eras, y tiempos tras tiempos, y sólo hay que andar sobre la circunferencia de un círculo que alberga la verdad en el punto del centro.

To have opinions is to sell out to yourself. To have no opinion is to exist. To have every opinion is to be a poet.

With slight misconceptions of reality we fabricate our hopes and beliefs, and we live off crusts that we call cakes, like poor children who make-believe they’re happy.

At the end of this day there remains what remained yesterday and what will remain tomorrow: the insatiable, unquantifiable longing to be both the same and other.

O que parece haver de desprezo entre homem e homem, de indiferente que permite que se mate gente sem que se sinta que se mata, como entre os assassinos, ou sem que se pense que...

Ah! The anguish, the vile rage, the despairOf not being able to expressWith a shout, an extreme and bitter shout,The bleeding of my heart.

La generazione a cui appartengo ha trovato un mondo privo di certezze per chi possegga un cuore e un cervello. Il lavoro di distruzione delle generazioni precedenti aveva prodotto come risultato che il mondo nel...

Eu que me aguente comigo e com os comigos de mim.

La vida práctica siempre me ha parecido el menos cómodo de los suicidios.

I’m almost convinced that I’m never awake. I’m not sure if I’m not in fact dreaming when I live, and living when I dream, or if dreaming and living are for me intersected, intermingled things...

Por isso, alheio, vou lendo como páginas, meu ser

O amor, o sono, as drogas e intoxicantes, são formas elementares da arte, ou, antes, de produzir o mesmo efeito que ela.

Soy el negativo absoluto, la encarnación de la nada. Lo que se desea y no se puede obtener, lo que se sueña porque no puede existir, ahí se encuentra mi reino vano y ahí está...

If after I die, people want to write my biography, there is nothing simpler. They only need two dates: the date of my birth and the date of my death. Between one and another, every...

I have to choose what I detest – either dreaming which my intelligence hates, or action, which my sensibility loathes; either action, for which I wasn’t born, or dreaming, for which no one was born....