To belong is synonymous with banality.
Creeds, ideals, woman, a profession – all are prisons and shackles.
To be is to be free. Even ambition, if we take pride of it, is a
hindrance; we wouldn't be proud of it if we realized it's a string by
which we're pulled. No: no ties even to ourselves! Free from
ourselves as well as from others, contemplatives without ecstasy,
thinkers without conclusions and liberated from God, we will live the
few moments of bliss allowed us in prison yard by the distraction of
our executioners. Tomorrow we will face the guillotine. Or if not
tomorrow, then the day after. Let us stroll about in the sun before
the end comes, deliberately forgetting all projects and pursuits.
Without wrinkles our foreheads will glow in the sun, and the breeze
will be cool for these who quit hoping.
Fernando Pessoa
The Book of Disquiet
translation: Richard Zenith
p. 204
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