Sublime

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.

It’s not the cracked walls of my rented room, nor the shabby desks in the office where I work, nor the poverty of the same old downtown streets in between, which I’ve crossed and recrossed so many times they seem to have assumed the immobility of the irreparable – none of that is responsible for my frequent feeling of nausea over the squalor of dai

Cada cual tiene su alcohol. Tengo alcohol suficiente con existir. Borracho de sentirme, vagabundeo y voy seguro.

These are my Confessions, and if in them I say nothing, it’s because I have nothing to say.

write words as if they were the soul’s salvation,

asociada a la inconsciencia; ya lo decía Erasmo en su encomio de la estulticia: nadie más feliz y despreocupado que algunos “necios”.

Neste mundo da previsibilidade, neste mundo de comportamento padrão tudo está completamente voltado para os acordos estabelecidos.

eu ainda não sei se sou uma pessoa que se conhece e que tem uma inteireza assim de gente grande.