Clarice Lispector
Clarice Lispector
Clarice Lispectorwas a Brazilian writer acclaimed internationally for her innovative novels and short stories. Born to a Jewish family in Podolia in Western Ukraine, she was brought to Brazil as an infant, amidst the disasters engulfing her native land following the First World War...
NationalityBrazilian
ProfessionWriter
Date of Birth10 December 1920
CountryBrazil
thinking facts feels
To think is an act. To feel is a fact.
mourn knows
Do not mourn the dead. They know what they are doing.
breathing silence world
The world's continual breathing is what we hear and call silence.
writing long answers
So long as I have questions to which there are no answers, I shall go on writing.
horse simple men
A horse is freedom so indominable that it becomes useless to imprison it to serve man: it lets itself be domesticated, but with a simple, rebellious toss of the head-shaking its mane like an abundance of free-flowing hair-it shows that its inner nature is always wild, translucent and free.
want made humans
What I want is to live of that initial and primordial something that was what made some things reach the point of aspiring to be human.
reality silence one-day
Reality prior to my language exists as an unthinkable thought. . . . life precedes love, bodily matter precedes the body, and one day in its turn language shall have preceded possession of silence.
eye two darkness
But I welcome the darkness where the two eyes of that soft panther glow. The darkness is my cultural broth. The enchanted darkness. I go on speaking to you, risking disconnection: I’m subterraneously unattainable because of what I know.
distance sadness intuition
I want the following word: splendor, splendor is fruit in all its succulence, fruit without sadness. I want vast distances. My savage intuition of myself.
world instantaneous
I' is merely one of the world's instantaneous spasms.
writing rocks steel
No it is not easy to write. It is as hard as breaking rocks. Sparks and splinters fly like shattered steel.
answers sometimes do-you-know
Do you know that hope sometimes consists only of a question without an answer?
truth-is wells sincerely
The only truth is that I live. Sincerely, I live. Who am I? Well, that's a bit much.
fate destiny choices
The mystery of human destiny is that we are fated, but that we have the freedom to fulfill or not fulfill our fate: realization of our fated destiny depends on us. While inhuman beings like the cockroach realize the entire cycle without going astray because they make no choices.