seeing

The Amorous Shepherd is a fruitless interlude, but those few poems are among the world__ greatest love poems, because they__e love poems about love, not about being poems. The poet loves because he loves, not because love exists.

The amorous shepherd has lost his staff,And his sheep are straying on the hillside,And he didn__ even play the flute he brought to play because he was thinking so much.No one came to him or went away. He never found his staff again.Others, cursing at him, gathered his sheep for him.No one had loved him, in the end.When he got up from the hillside and the false truth, he saw everything:The great valleys full of the same green as always,The great distant mountains, more real than any feeling,All reality, with the sky and the air and the fields that exist, is present.(And once again the air, that he__ missed for so long, entered coolly into his lungs)And he felt that the air was opening again, but with pain, a liberty in his chest.(7/10/1930)

he woman Caeiro fell in love with. I have no idea who she was, and I intend to never find out, not even out of curiosity. There are things of which the soul refuses to lose its ignorance.I__ perfectly aware no one__ obliged to reciprocate love, and great poets have nothing to do with being great lovers. But there__ a transcendent spite...Let her remain anonymous even to God!

Between what i see in a field and what I see in another fieldThere passes for a moment the figure of a man.His steps go with __im_ in the same reality,But I look at him and them, and they__e two things:The __an_ goes walking with his ideas, false and foreign,And his steps go with the ancient system that makes legs walk.I see him from a distance without any opinion at all.How perfect that he is in him what he is _ his body,His true reality which doesn__ have desires or hopes,But muscles and the sure and impersonal way of using them.

If science wants to be truthful,What science is more truthful than the science of things without science?I close my eyes and the hard earth where I__ lyingHas a reality so real even my back feels it.I don__ need reason _ I have shoulderblades.

Something changed in part of reality _ my knees and my hands.What science has knowledge for this?The blind man goes on his way and I don__ make any more gestures.It__ already not the same time, or the same people, or anything the same.This is being real.

Everything__ different from us. That__ why everything exists.

I love flowers for being flowers, directly.And I love trees for being trees without my thought.

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?

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.

Reality depends a great deal upon one believing what he sees__r seeing what he believes. Either way.

Don__ be an interpreter of reality, be a visionary. Don__ think about it, see it!

You are not even seeing most of what's going on in the universe. On top of that, your brain filters out much of what it receives from the environment. So that what you are consciously aware of is only a fractional representation of your universe.

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).

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.

There is no greater success than turning your true passion into a dream, and seeing its reality come to manifestation.

I see you in every passing moment.

The way you see the world is how you live it.