Pessoa's Aesthetics of Artifice

Sometimes, I don't even recognize me, so external to myself have I become, and so entirely artistically have I deployed my consciousness of myself. Who am I behind this unreality? I don't know. I must be someone. And if I do not seek to live, to act or to feel, it is -believe me- so as not to disturb the already laid down lines of my false persona. I want to be exactly what I want to be and am not. If I were to live I would destroy myself. I wanted to be a work of art, at least as regards my soul, since physically that's impossible. That is why I sculpted myself calmly and indifferently and placed myself in a hothouse, far from draughts and direct light - where the exotic flower of my artificiality can bloom in secluded beauty. 

- The Book of Disquiet, Fernando Pessoa