If this be to have sense, if to be awake Be but to see this bright, great sleep of things, For the rarer potion mine own dreams I'll take And for truth commune with imaginings
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the contrast between reality and dreams, suggesting that true understanding comes from engaging with one's imagination.
In this quote, Fernando Pessoa explores the nature of consciousness and reality. He presents the idea that merely being awake and perceiving the world is insufficient; instead, one must also embrace their dreams and imagination to find deeper truths. The 'bright, great sleep of things' signifies the superficiality of reality, whereas the 'rarer potion' of dreams highlights the value of internal exploration and the pursuit of profound understanding beyond the mundane.
In practice
This quote can be shared during a discussion about the importance of creativity in personal development.
I have at this moment so many fundamental thoughts, so many truly metaphysical things to say, that I suddenly get tired and decide not to write any more, not to think any more, but to allow the fever of speaking to make me sleepy, and with my eyes closed, like a cat, I play with everything I could have said.
It's been months since I last wrote. I've lived in a state of mental slumber, leading the life of someone else. I've felt, very often, a vicarious happiness. I haven't existed. I've been someone else. I've lived without thinking.
We all have two lives: The true, the one we dreamed of in childhood And go on dreaming of as adults in a substratum of mist; the false, the one we love when we live with others, the practical, the useful, the one we end up by being put in a coffin.
I'm a man for whom the outside world is an inner Reality.
My dreams are a stupid refuge, like an umbrella against a thunderbolt.
The chill of what I won't feel gnaws at my present heart.
I find it [science] analytical, pretentious and superficial-largely because it does not address itself to dreams, chance, laughter, feelings, or paradox-in other words,-all the things I love the most.
The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference.
The display of grief makes more demands than grief itself. How few men are sad in their own company.
The trouble with ecological invocations of Nature is that they're like calling for a medieval tool, perhaps a portcullis or an arrow slit, to fix a modern problem.
Time heals griefs and quarrels, for we change and are no longer the same persons. Neither the offender nor the offended are any more themselves.
To this day it is all but impossible for me to actually stop and think of my parents as white and black or to think of myself, therefore, as half and half.
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