1. 16:38 3rd Aug 2014

    Notes: 1425

    Reblogged from journalofanobody

    I am the shipwreck of my own wanderings.
    — The Book of Disquiet, Fernando Pessoa (via dwales)

    (Source: inmilkwood)

     
  2. 16:26

    Notes: 22

    Reblogged from litverve

    Be what I think? But I keep thinking I’m so many things!
    — Fernando Pessoa, from “Tobacco Shop”, trans. Edwin Honig and Susan M. Brown (via litverve)
     
  3. 08:01 5th May 2014

    Notes: 18

    Reblogged from godsdear

    iwasaprisonerinyrskull:

Fernando Pessoa - Flagrante Delitro

    iwasaprisonerinyrskull:

    Fernando Pessoa - Flagrante Delitro

    (Source: unetrangerquidort)

     
  4. 16:02 4th May 2014

    Notes: 3

    Reblogged from uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

    I have a stomach ache in my lungs. / It costs me plenty to breathe enough to keep up a soul. / I have an array of sad diseases in the joints of my will.
    — Fernando Pessoa (via uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh)
     
  5. 08:01

    Notes: 8

    Reblogged from quantummodulus

    It’s human to want what we need, and it’s human to desire what we don’t need but find desirable. Sickness occurs when we desire what we need and what’s desirable with equal intensity, suffering our lack of perfection as if we were suffering for lack of bread. The Romantic malady is to want the moon as if it could actually be obtained.
    — Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, Text 53. (via quantummodulus)
     
  6. 01:58

    Notes: 31

    Reblogged from un-thoughtful

    It’s been months since I last wrote. I’ve lived in a state of mental slumber, leading the life of someone else. I’ve felt, very often, a vicarious happiness. I haven’t existed. I’ve been someone else. I’ve lived without thinking.
    — ―Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (via un-thoughtful)
     
  7. 01:44

    Notes: 2

    Reblogged from bad-moon-rising

    I’ll die as I’ve lived, amid all the junk on the outskirts, sold by weight among the postscripts of the broken.
    — 

    Fernando Pessoa

    The Book of Disquiet

    (via bad-moon-rising)

     
  8. 01:39

    Notes: 819

    Reblogged from thefallingdolls

    No one tires of dreaming, because dreaming is forgetting, and forgetting doesn’t weigh a thing.
    — Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet  (via waitingforteaagain)

    (Source: seabois)

     
  9. 20:07 4th Jan 2014

    Notes: 6

    Reblogged from puffalump

    puffalump:

    I sorely grieve over time’s passage. It’s always with exaggerated emotion that I leave something behind, whatever it may be. The miserable rented room where I lived for a few months, the dinner table at the provincial hotel where I stayed for six days, even the sad waiting room at the station…

     
  10. 20:06

    Notes: 287

    Reblogged from evocativesynthesis

    By day I am nothing, and by night I am I.
    — Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (via evocativesynthesis)
     
  11. 20:06

    Notes: 143

    Reblogged from coffeesunrises

    It’s human to want what we need, and it’s human to desire what we don’t need but find desirable. Sickness occurs when we desire what we need and what’s desirable with equal intensity, suffering our lack of perfection as if we were suffering for lack of bread. The Romantic malady is to want the moon as if it could actually be obtained.
    — Fernando Pessoa  (via losaficionados)
     
  12. 20:06

    Notes: 84

    Reblogged from polishfootnotes

    I’ve never tried to live my life.
    My life’s lived itself without me wanting or not wanting.
    I’ve only wanted to see as if I didn’t have a soul
    I’ve always wanted to see as if the eyes I was born with
    were strangers.
    —  Fernando Pessoa (via polishfootnotes)
     
  13. 20:06

    Notes: 63

    Reblogged from lifting-quotes

    It seems I’ve stopped speaking with my voice. Part of me fell asleep and just watches.
    — Fernando Pessoa (via lifting-quotes)
     
  14. 20:05

    Notes: 2

    Reblogged from fastreader

    Book of Disquiet 377

    fastreader:

    Thee’s a kind of sad happiness in the feeling of convalescence,especially if the sickness that preceeded it affected the nerves. There’s an autumn in our emotions and thoughts, or rather, a beginning of spring that except for the absence of falling leaves seems, in the air and in the sky, like autumn.

     
  15. 08:02 2nd Nov 2013

    Notes: 20

    Reblogged from heartvoyage

    The snow puts a quiet blanket over everything.
    You don’t feel anything except what goes on in your house.
    I wrap myself in my covers and don’t even think about thinking.
    I feel an animal delight and I think aimlessly,
    And I fall asleep, no more useless than all the actions in the world.
    — Fernando Pessoa, Alberto Caeiro, Complete Poems (via heartvoyage)