Fernando Pessoa Quotes

Life is what we make of it. Travel is the traveler. What we see isn't what we see but what we are.

The value of things is not the time they last, but the intensity with which they occur. That is why there are unforgettable moments and unique people!

Stones in the road? I save every single one, and one day I'll build a castle.

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.

There is a time when it is necessary to abandon the used clothes, which already have the shape of our body and to forget our paths, which takes us always to the same places. This is the time to cross the river: and if we don't dare to do it, we will have stayed, forever beneath ourselves

I wasn’t meant for reality, but life came and found me.

I am nothing. I'll never be anything. I couldn't want to be something. Apart from that, I have in me all the dreams in the world.

I bear the wounds of all the battles I avoided.

If you cannot live alone, you were born a slave.

There are no norms. All people are exceptions to a rule that doesn’t exist.

Everything is worthwhile if the soul is not small.

I’m beginning to know myself. I don’t exist. I’m the space between what I’d like to be and what others made of me. Just let me be at ease and all by myself in my room.

For who expects nothing, all that comes is grateful

We never love anyone. What we love is the idea we have of someone. It's our own concept—our own selves—that we love.

Art consists in making others feel what we feel.

To be great, be whole; Exclude nothing. Be whole in everything.

No intelligent idea can gain general acceptance unless some stupidity is mixed in with it.

My soul is a hidden orchestra; I know not what instruments, what fiddlestrings and harps, drums and tamboura I sound and clash inside myself. All I hear is the symphony.

Have you ever considered, beloved other, how invisible we are to each other? We look at each other without seeing. We listen to each other and hear only a voice inside out self. The words of others are mistakes of our hearing, shipwrecks of our understanding. How confidently we believe OUR meanings of other people's words.

Life is full of paradoxes, as roses are of thorns.

Why is art beautiful? Because it's useless. Why is life ugly? Because it's all ends and purposes and intentions.

To know how to think with emotions and to feel with intellect.

I always live in the present. The future I can't know. The past I no longer have.

It's been a long time since I've been me.

I pass times, I pass silences, formless worlds pass me by.