Queria saber: Depois que se é feliz, o que acontece? O que vem depois?
Clarice LispectorÉ possível também que já então meu tema de vida fosse a irrazoável esperança, e que eu já tivesse iniciado a minha grande obstinação: eu daria tudo que era meu por nada, mas queria que tudo me fosse dado por nada.
Clarice LispectorEverything in the world began with a yes. One molecule said yes to another molecule and life was born. But before prehistory there was the prehistory of prehistory and there was the never and there was the yes.
Clarice LispectorAnd even sadness was also something for rich people, for people who could afford it, for people who didn't have anything better to do. Sadness was a luxury.
Clarice LispectorI also want the figurative like a painter who only paints abstract colors but wants to show that he does so because he chooses to, not because he can't draw.
Clarice LispectorLife was taking its vengeance on me, and that vengeance consisted merely in coming back, nothing more. Every case of madness involves something coming back. People who are possessed are not possessed by something that just comes but instead by something that comes back. Sometimes life comes back. If in me everything crumbled before that power, it is not because that power was itself necessarily an overwhelming one: it in fact had only to come, since it had already become too full-flowing a force to be controlled or contained - when it appeared it overran everything. And then, like after a flood, there floated a wardrobe, a person, a loose window, three suitcases. And that seemed like Hell to me, that destruction of layers and layers of human archaeology.
Clarice LispectorTags: life madness hell destruction repression vengeance
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.
Clarice LispectorBut 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.
Clarice LispectorI will surpass myself in waves, ah, Lord, and may everything come and fall upon me, even the incomprehension of myself at certain white moments because all I have to do is comply with myself and then nothing will block my path until death-without-fear, from any struggle or rest I will rise up as strong and beautiful as a young horse.
Clarice LispectorHolding someone's hand was always my idea of joy. Often before falling asleep - in that small struggle not to lose consciousness and enter the greater world - often, before having the courage to go toward the greatness of sleep, I pretend that someone is holding my hand and I go, go toward the enormous absence of form that is sleep. And when even then I can't find the courage, then I dream.
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