Fernando Pessoa Quotes

They used to complain at school that I looked out of the window for long periods of time - that sums up my life. I like to look out the window, do nothing, daydream.

To dream magnificently is not a gift given to all men, and even for those who possess it, it runs a strong risk of being progressively diminished by the ever-growing dissipation of modern life and by the restlessness engendered by material progress. The ability to dream is a divine and mysterious ability; because it is through dreams that man communicates with the shadowy world which surrounds him. But this power needs solitude to develop freely; the more one concentrates, the more one is likely to dream fully, deeply.

Action is limited and relative. Unlimited and absolute is the vision of him who sits at ease and watches, who walks in loneliness and dreams.

I dream. Sometimes I think that’s the only right thing to do. To dream, to live in the world of dreams. But it doesn’t last forever. Wakefulness always comes to take me back.

Closer of lovely eyes to lovely dreams, Lover of loneliness, and wandering, Of upcast eye, and tender pondering! Thee must I praise above all other glories That smile us on to tell delightful stories.

In a wonderland they lie, dreaming as the days go by

I like people who dream or talk to themselves interminably; I like them, for they are double. They are here and elsewhere.

I don't know myself, what to do, where to go... I lie in the crack of a book for my comfort... it's what the world offers... please leave me alone to dream as I fancy.

Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.

I live in my head all day long and the world is a little dreamy.

But the delights of solitude don't only consist of dreaming. Next in enjoyment, I think, comes planning.

When you are alone and too tired even to turn on any of your devices, you let yourself linger in a past stacked among your pillows.

In quiet moments, I love to read.

God, I love daydreaming out plane windows.

I've always kind of lived in my own world.

I spent a lot of time in my head, but not like caring about what everybody else thought, just literally in my own world.

I sit at my window gazing The world passes by, nods to me And is gone.

We read in bed because reading is halfway between life and dreaming, our own consciousness in someone else's mind.

To know, to think, to dream. That is everything.

In any case, suffice it to say I enjoyed hearing about faraway places. I had stocked up a whole store of these places, like a bear getting ready for hibernation. I'd close my eyes, and streets would materialize, rows of houses take shape. I could hear people's voices, feel the gentle, steady rhythm of their lives, those people so distant, whom I'd probably never know.

I'm sorry to say my dear wife is a dreamer, and as she dreams she gets paler and leaner. Then be off to your Dream, with his fly-away hat, I stay with the girls who are happy and fat.

I took a great deal of pleasure in it, and I still feel nostalgic about it. However, I felt that it had led me to live in a parallel world of pure invention, shut inside my solitude. Naturally, it was precisely for that purpose that it was made and that was why I took pleasure in it, but I wanted to regain body and roots.

When you find yourself alone, or in a transition, you dream more. These are also the times when you read books.

A pretext-not a cause-is sufficient for us to enter the "solitary situation", the situation of the dreaming solitude. In this solitude, memories arrange themselves in tableaux. Decor takes precedence over drama. Sad memories take on at least the peace of melancholy.

The sight of stars makes me dream.