Though I had come into the world on 16 November 1922, my official documents show that I was born two days later,… — Jose Saramago Copy Share Image
“We all have our moments of weakness, just as well that we are still capable of weeping, tears are often our salvation,… — José Saramago Copy Share Image
“don't ask me what good and what evil are, we knew what it was each time we had to act when blindness… — José Saramago Copy Share Image
“There are such moments in life: one unexpectedly discovers that perfection exists, that it, too, is a tiny sphere traveling in time,… — José Saramago Copy Share Image
“We are born, and at that moment, it is as if we had signed a pact for the rest of our life, but a… — José Saramago Copy Share
It takes little or nothing to undo reputations, the merest trifle makes and remakes them, it is simply a question of finding the best… — Jose Saramago Copy Share
With the passage of time, as well as the social evolution and genetic exchange, we ended up putting our conscience in the color of… — Jose Saramago Copy Share
“E se as histórias para crianças passassem a ser de leitura obrigatória para os adultos? Seriam eles capazes de aprender realmente o que há… — José Saramago Copy Share
“the inmates of the second ward in the right wing have decided, at long last, to bury their dead, at least we shall be… — José Saramago Copy Share
“Stretching one arm behind him, the man passed his hand over the horse's coat, his own skin transformed, or skin which had transformed into… — José Saramago Copy Share
...you have to leave the island in order to see the island, that we can't see ourselves unless we become free of ourselves, Unless… — Jose Saramago Copy Share
anyone who gets up early by inclination or has been forced to rise early out of necessity finds it intolerable that others should go… — Jose Saramago Copy Share
Society has to change, but the political powers we have at the moment are not enough to effect this change. The whole democratic system… — Jose Saramago Copy Share
“... aborrece os odores nocturnos, aquelas expansões do corpo a que nem poetas escapam".” — José Saramago Copy Share
