Spacely Mind

GOD EYE AM HIM & HIM IS EYE LEFT HANDED ITS JUST THE GEM IN EYE IMA GEMINI (POET) ig:spacewrld504 Weirdo https://youtu.be/PoTJwMS_dlI

[etudiantfantome]

Pessoa's chest

[babiedeer]

[alvallah]

“Whenever I’ve tried to free my life from a set of the circumstances that continuously oppress it, I’ve been instantly surrounded by other circumstances of the same order, as if the inscrutable web of creation were irrevocably at odds with me. I yank from my neck a hand that was choking me, and I see that my own hand is tied to a noose that fell around my neck when I freed it from the stranger’s hand. When I gingerly remove the noose, it’s with my own hands that I nearly strangle myself.”

The Book of Disquiet, by Fernando Pessoa

[total-derangement-of-the-senses]

Other people's understanding of us is made up of so many complex misunderstandings.

Anyone who wants to be understood will never know the delight of being understood, because this happens only to the complex and misunderstood; simple souls, the ones whom other people can understand, never feel a desire to be understood.

– Fernando Pessoa, The Book Of Disquiet, trans. by Margaret Jull Costa

[vianegativa]

The Book of Disquiet, by Fernando Pessoa [c. 1982]

[evenasmallcough]

- I never tried to be anything other than a dreamer. I never paid attention to people who told me to go out and live. I belonged always to whatever was far from me and to whatever I could never be. Anything that was not mine, however base, always seemed to be full of poetry. The only thing I ever loved was pure nothingness.

- Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

[bloodservility]

— Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (1982)

[highlandsorrows]

-Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

[alvallah]

“Sadly I write quiet in my room, alone as I have always been, alone as I will always be. And I wonder if my apparently negligible voice might not embody the essence of thousands of voices, the longing for self-expression of thousands of lives, the patience of millions of souls resigned like my own to their daily lot, their useless dreams, and their hopeless hopes.”

The Book of Disquiet, by Fernando Pessoa

[feignedremote]

How often I feel, as if hearing a voice behind intermittent sounds, that I myself am the underlying bitterness of this life so alien to human life – a life in which nothing happens except in its self-awareness! ... I’ve made myself into the character of a book, a life one reads. Whatever I feel is felt (against my will) so that I can write that I felt it. Whatever I think is promptly put into words, mixed with images that undo it, cast into rhythms that are something else altogether. From so much self-revising, I’ve destroyed myself. From so much self-thinking, I’m now my thoughts and not I. I plumbed myself and dropped the plumb; I spend my life wondering if I’m deep or not, with no remaining plumb except my gaze that shows me – blackly vivid in the mirror at the bottom of the well – my own face that observes me observing it.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, trans. Richard Zenith

[askyea-poesy]

The cause of my profound sense of incompatibility with others is, I believe, that most people think with their feelings, whereas I feel with my thoughts. For the ordinary man, to feel is to live, and to think is to know how to live. For me, to think is to live, and to feel is merely food for thought.

Fernando Pessoa

[annori]

Fernando Pessoa from The Book of Disquiet (1982)

[quotelr]

“I suffer from life and from other people. I can’t look at reality face to face. Even the sun discourages and depresses me. Only at night and all alone, withdrawn, forgotten and lost, with no connection to anything real or useful — only then do I find myself and feel comforted.”

— Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

[dysphoresque]

— Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

[iindex]

The Book of Disquiet / Fernando Pessoa / 1982

[coffee-quotes]

Fernando Pessoa, "The Book of Disquiet"

[total-derangement-of-the-senses]

I suffer and I dream. I complain because I am weak and, because I am an artist, I amuse myself by weaving music around my complaints and arranging my dreams as best befits my idea of beautiful dreams.

– Fernando Pessoa, The Book Of Disquiet, trans. by Margaret Jull Costa