paganism

in exceptional circumstances _ exceptional in that all circumstances in life are exceptional, especially those which are nothing in themselves and come to be everything in their results.

the Great Vaccination _ the vaccination against the stupidity of the intelligentsia.

That thing over there was more there than it__ there!Yes, sometimes I cry about the perfect body that doesn__ exist.But the perfect body is the bodiest body there can be,And the rest are the dreams men have,The myopia of someone who doesn__ look very much,

Do I believe a thing has limits!? Of course! Nothing exists that doesn__ have limits. Existence means there__ always something else, and so everything has limits. Why is it so hard to conceive that a thing is a thing, and that it isn__ always being some other thing that__ beyond it?__t that moment I felt in my bones not that I was talking to a man, but to another universe. I tried one last time, from another angle, which I felt compelled to consider legitimate.__ook, Caeiro... think about numbers... Where do they end? Take any number _ say 34. Past it we have 35, 36, 37, 38 _ there can be no end to it. There is no number so big that there is no number larger...___ut that__ just numbers,_ protested my master Caeiro.And then, looking at me out of his formidable, childlike eyes:__hat is 34 in Reality, anyway?

Superior poets say what they really feel. Mediocre poets say what they decide to feel. Inferior poets say what they think they should feel.

But what you__e calling poetry is what everything is. It__ not even poetry _ it__ seeing. These materialists are blind. You told me they say space is infinite. Where do they see that in space?__nd I, disconcerted: __ut don__ you think of space as infinite? Can__ you conceive of space as infinite?___ don__ conceive of anything as being infinite. How could I conceive of anything as being infinite?___ut, man,_ I said, __magine space. Beyond that space is more space, and beyond that more, and then more, and more... It never ends...___hy?_ asked my master Caeiro.

It__ stupid, but it__ human, and that__ how it is.

Nothing at all reminds us of something else when we pay attention to it.Each thing only reminds us of what it isAnd it__ only what nothing else is.The fact that it__ it separates it from every other thing.(Everything__ nothing without another thing that__ not it).

On a whitely cloudy day I get sad, almost afraid,And I begin to meditate about problems I make up.

I__ like to have enough time and quietTo think about absolutely nothing,To not ever feel myself living,To only know myself in others_ eyes, reflected.

I saw that there is no Nature,That Nature doesn__ exist,That there are hills, valleys, plains,That there are trees, flowers, weeds,That there are rivers and stones,But there is not a whole these belong to,That a real and true wholenessIs a sickness of our ideas.

There are no roses in my yard: what wind brought you?But I suddenly come from far away. I was sick for a moment.No wind whatsoever brought you now.Now you__e here.What you were isn__ you, or else the whole rose would be here.

Also at times, on the surface of streams,Water?bubbles formAnd grow and burstAnd have no meaning at allExcept that they__e water?bubblesGrowing and bursting.

I don__ always feel what I know I should feel.My thought crosses the river I swim very slowlyBecause the suit men made it wear weighs it down.

He should be happy because he can think about the unhappiness of others!He__ stupid if he doesn__ know other people__ unhappiness is theirs,And isn__ cured from the outside,Because suffering isn__ like running out of ink,Or a trunk not having iron bands!There being injustice is like there being death.

A stagecoach passed by on the road and went on;And the road didn__ become more beautiful or even more ugly.That__ human action on the outside world.We take nothing away and we put nothing back, we pass by and we forget;And the sun is always punctual every day.(5/7/14)

The man stopped talking and was looking at the sunset.But what does someone who hates and loves want with a sunset?

I think about this, not like someone thinking, but like someone breathing,And I look at flowers and I smile...I don__ know if they understand meOr if I understand them,But I know the truth is in them and in meAnd in our common divinityOf letting ourselves go and live on the EarthAnd carrying us in our arms through the contented SeasonsAnd letting the wind sing us to sleepAnd not have dreams in our sleep.