Leon Soisa

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Dead Souls
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Death in Venice
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More of Leon's books…
Fernando Pessoa
“There are inner sufferings so subtle and so diffuse that we can’t tell whether they belong to the body or the soul, whether they’re an anxiety that comes from our feeling that life is futile or an indisposition originating in some organic abyss such as the stomach, liver or brain. How often my normal self-awareness becomes turbid with the stirred dregs of an anguished stagnation! How often it hurts me to exist, with a nausea so indefinite I’m not sure if it’s tedium or a warning that I’m about to vomit! How often…”
Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

Samuel Beckett
“Yes, there were times when I forgot not only who I was, but that I was, forgot to be. Then I was no longer
that sealed jar to which I owed my being so well preserved, but a wall gave way and I filled with roots and tame stems for example, stakes long since dead and ready for burning, the recess of night and the imminence of dawn, and then the labour of the planet rolling eager into winter, winter would rid it of these contemptible scabs”
Samuel Beckett, Molloy

Fernando Pessoa
From my village I see as much of the universe as can be seen
from the earth,
And so my village is as large as any town,
For I am the size of what I see
And not the size of my height . . .

In the cities life is smaller
Than here in my house on top of this hill.
The big buildings of cities lock up the view,
They hide the horizon, pulling our gaze far away from the
open sky.
They make us small, for they take away all the vastness our
eyes can see,
And they make us poor, for our only wealth is seeing.”
Fernando Pessoa, A Little Larger Than the Entire Universe: Selected Poems

Fernando Pessoa
“I’m older than Time and Space, because I’m conscious. Things derive from me; the whole of Nature is the offspring of my sensations.

I seek and I don’t find. I want and can’t have.

Without me the sun rises and expires; without me the rain falls and the wind howls. It’s not because of me that there are seasons, the twelve months, time’s passage.

Lord of the world in me which, like earthly lands, I can’t take with me (...)”
Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

Louis-Ferdinand Céline
“Now was the time to make quick tracks. Back to Fort-Gono, retrace my steps? Try to explain my conduct and the circumstances of the present disaster? I hesitated . . . Not for long. Nothing can be explained. The world only knows how to do one thing, to roll over and kill you, as a sleeper kills his fleas. That would be a stupid way to die, I said to myself, to let myself be crushed like everybody else. To put your trust in men is to get yourself killed a little.”
Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Journey to the End of the Night
tags: trust

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