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“a sadness felt by my entire being rises from my soul to my mind - a bitter awareness that everything is a sensation of mine and at the same time something external, something not in my power to change.”
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The Book of Disquiet - Fernando Pessoa
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My soul is a black maelstrom, a great madness spinning about a vacuum, the swirling of a vast ocean around a hole in the void, and in the waters, more like whirlwinds than waters, float images of all I ever saw or heard in the world: houses, faces, books, boxes, snatches of music and fragments of voices, all caught up in a sinister, bottomless whirlpool." - Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
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— The Book of disquiet, Fernando Pessoa
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“In these times of acute grief, it is impossible – even in dreams – to be a lover, to be a hero, to be happy. All of this is empty, even in our idea of what it is."
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“There we lived in a time that couldn’t possibly flow, in a space one could never even dream of measuring. A flowing that occurred outside of Time, an expanse that didn’t respect the norms of spatial reality… All those hours we spent there, O useless soulmate of my tedium! All those hours of spiritual ashes, days of spatial nostalgia, inner centuries of outer landscape… And we didn’t ask what it was all for, because we revelled in knowing that it was for nothing.”
Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (pg 420)
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Portuguese writer.
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literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life
— fernando pessoa
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“The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd; the longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.”
— Fernando Pessoa, Book of Disquiet
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"In my heart there's a peaceful anguish, and my calm is made of resignation." ~ The Book of Disquiet, Fernando Pessoa
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The Book Of Disquiet
An odd start to this endeavour...whatever this is..but here goes
I started Fernando Pessoa's Book of disquiet, and I was going through the introduction, about Pessoa himself. What struck me was how he had these multiple heteronyms that he published under, but at the same time, according to Pessoa, they were much more alive than the identity Fernando Pessoa itself. And this made so much sense to me.
Almost all people have this .. disconnect between personalities to a certain extent. You put on a professional mask when interacting with professional peers and a more family-oriented mask when with family. Each of these masks are a facet of you as a whole. Ergo, you as a whole are made up of all these different aspects of your personality. If each aspect of your personality could be a person in their own right, then they are just as alive as you are.
Which leads into the next argument of what being alive means really, but I'll save that for when I've finished the book
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“ my life feels to me like the life they have. By day they're full of meaningless activity; by night they're full of a meaningless lack of it. By day I am nothing, and by night I am I.”
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Life is an experimental journey undertaken involuntarily. It is a journey of the spirit through the material world and, since it is the spirit that travels, it is the spirit that is experienced. That is why there exist contemplative souls who have lived more intensely, more widely, more tumultuously than others who have lived their lives purely externally.
Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
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captured this sad concluding poem i read in a book, about my mother, my ex or whatever we were, and myself. we are all so insecure and vulnerable in different ways and therefor close ourselves off, strive to be perfect, can’t take any blame and will deny realities, some at the brutal cost of other people
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pass time that will pass
stop train before stop
a little sad we can’t really talk
that we can’t possess feels
or bodies, or even hands resting
on thighs, patient, before more words
memory, regret—
the longing of things past
in gently disquiet healing
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