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.
Interpretation
This quote reflects on the dual existence we all face: the ideal life we aspire to and the practical life we lead.
Fernando Pessoa's quote emphasizes the contrast between our idealized dreams (the true life) and the societal roles we fulfill (the false life). It suggests that while we hold on to our childhood dreams, reality often forces us to navigate through a 'false' existence determined by external expectations and practicality, ultimately leading to a life that may feel constraining or unfulfilling.
In practice
In a motivational speech about pursuing aspirations, one might quote this to encourage the audience to chase their dreams.
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.
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.
Friends: not one. Just a few acquaintances who imagine they feel something for me and who might be sorry if a train ran over me and the funeral was on a rainy day.
Nothing that isn't a real crime makes a man appear so contemptible and little in the eyes of the world as inconsistency.
This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-Paradise.
We chart delusions through collective agreement.
I was raised to believe that other people's suffering was my responsibility.
It's the tide. It's the dismal tide. It's not the one thing.
A dispassionate white sun shone at the summit of the sky. I wanted to hone myself on it till I grew saintly and thin and essential as the blade of a knife.
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