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“The nocturnal glory of being great without being anything! The somber majesty of unknown splendor … And I suddenly feel the sublimity of the monk in the desert, of the hermit in his retreat, imbued with the substance of the Christ in the stones and the caves, which are the negation of the world, empty statuary.
And sitting at the table in my room, I am less despicable, an employee and anonymous; I write words that are the salvation of my soul […] a ring of renunciation on my evangelical hand, the dull jewel of my ecstatic disdain.”
(Bernardo Soares / Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet. Trans. Alfred Mac Adam)
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