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Any nostalgia I feel is literary. I remember my childhood with tears, but they’re rhythmic tears, in which prose is already being formed. . . . I feel nostalgia for scenes. Thus someone else’s childhood can move me as much as my own; both are purely visual phenomena from a past I’m unable to fathom…

Thus all of the heteronym forger’s mysticism, nationalism, and other ardent divagations came back to none other than himself

Despite his megalomania, Pessoa harbored no illusions about the unexceptional, even bourgeois etiology of his disquiet

Or should we call those writings an expanding universe? Over the last ten years, as new texts from the archives have been transcribed and published and with many new players entering the picture, Fernando Pessoa & Co. has proved to be a larger, more complex enterprise than anyone had imagined. When…

[...] The only way Pessoa could conceive of being a poet was by not being, by pretending, by achieving complete insincerity:

The poet is a faker
Who’s so good at his act
He even fakes the pain
Of pain he feels in fact.
And those who read his words
Will feel in what he wrote
N…