Quotes from Alberto Caeiro

A kid thinking about fairy tales and believing in fairy tales Acts like a sick god, but like a god. Because even though he affirms that what doesn't exist exists, He knows things exist, that he exists, He knows existing exists and doesn't explain itself, And he knows there's no reason at all for anything to exist. He knows being is the point. All he doesn't know is that thought isn't the point. (10/1/1917)

All the evil in the world comes from us bothering with each other, Wanting to do good, wanting to do evil. Our soul and the sky and the earth are enough for us. To want more is to lose this, and be unhappy.

I saw that there is no Nature, That Nature doesn't 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 wholeness Is a sickness of our ideas.

All beings exist and nothing else And that's why they're called beings

Nem sempre consigo sentir o que sei que devo sentir. O meu pensamento só muito devagar atravessa o rio a nado Porque lhe pesa o fato que os homens o fizeram usar.

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't make any more gestures. It's already not the same time, or the same people, or anything the same. This is being real.

Sometimes in the evening on Summer days, Even when there's not a breeze at all, it seems Like there's a light breeze blowing for a minute But the trees are unmoving In every leaf of their leaves And our feelings have had an illusion, An illusion of what would please them...

Yes: I exist inside my body. I'm not carrying the sun and the moon in my pocket. I don't want to conquer worlds because I slept badly, And I don't want to eat the world for breakfast because I have a stomach. Indifferent? No: a son of the earth, who, if he jumps, it's wrong, A moment in the air that's not for us, And only happy when his feet hit the ground again, Pow! In reality where nothing's missing! (6/20/1919)

Olá, guardador de rebanhos, Aí à beira da estrada, Que te diz o vento que passa?' 'Que é vento, e que passa, E que já passou antes, E que passará depois. E a ti o que te diz?' 'Muita coisa mais do que isso, Fala-me de muitas outras coisas. De memórias e de saudades E de coisas que nunca foram.' 'Nunca ouviste passar o vento. O vento só fala do vento. O que lhe ouviste foi mentira, E a mentira está em ti.

Lightly, lightly, very lightly, A wind passes very lightly And goes away, always very lightly. And I don't know what I think And I don't want to know.

Pensar é não compreender.

I was never a keeper of sheep

If they want me to have mysticism, okay, I've got it. I'm a mystic, but only in my body, My soul is simple and doesn't think.

O mundo não se fez para pensarnos nele (pensar é estar doente dos olhos) mas para olharmos para ele e estarmos de acordo...

It's not enough to open the window To see the fields and the river. It's also not enough to not be blind To see the trees and the flowers. It's also necessary to not have any philosophy at all. With philosophy there are no trees, there are only ideas. There's only each of us, like a wine-cellar. There's only a shut window and the world outside it; And a dream of what you could see if you opened the window, Which is never what you see when you open the window.

I was born subject like others to errors and defects, But never to the error of wanting to understand too much, Never to the error of wanting to understand only with the intellect.. Never to the defect of demanding of the World That it be anything that's not the World.

Praise be to God I'm not good, And have the natural egotism of flowers And rivers following their bed Preoccupied without knowing it Only with blooming and flowing. This is the only mission in the World, This—to exist clearly, And to know how to do it without thinking about it.)

If I talk about her like she's a being It's because talking about her I need to use the language of men Which gives personality to things, And imposes a name on things.

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

That thing over there was more there than it's there! Yes, sometimes I cry about the perfect body that doesn't 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't look very much,

Quem ama é diferente de quem é. É a mesma pessoa sem ninguém

Um dia de chuva é tão belo como um dia de sol. ambos existem, cada um como é. Por isso não há vantagem em pôr nomes errados às cousas, nem mesmo em lhes pôr nomes alguns

The main thing is knowing how to see, To know how to see without thinking, To know how to see when you see, And not think when you see Or see when you think.

Yes, this is what my senses alone have learned:— Things don't have significance: they only have existence. Things are the only hidden meaning of things.