If I could only go back to being a
child and remain one for ever, oblivious to the values that man
attached to things and to the relations they established between
them! (…)
Gold is worth no more than glass to a
child. And is gold value truly greater? The child obscurely senses
the absurdity of the wraths, passions and fears he sees sculpted in
adult gestures. And aren't all our fears, hatreds and loves truly
vain and absurd?
O divinely absurd intuition of
children! True vision of things, which we always dress with
conventions, however nakedly we see them, and always blur with our
ideas, however directly we look at them!
Might not God be an enormous child?
Doesn't the whole universe seem like a game, like the prank of
mischievous child? So unreal, so …
Pessoa
The Book of Disquiet
translation: Richard Zenith
p. 406
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