I have grown weary of literature: silence alone comforts me. If I continue to write, it’s because I have nothing more to… — Clarice Lispector Copy Share Image
I hear the mad song of a little bird and crush butterflies between my fingers. — Clarice Lispector Copy Share Image
At first she dreamed of sheep, of going to school, of cats drinking milk. Little by little she dreamed of blue sheep,… — Clarice Lispector Copy Share Image
“I find it hard to believe that I shall die. Because I'm bubbling in cold freshness. My life will be very long because each… — Clarice Lispector Copy Share Image
“We shall be inhuman - as humankind's greatest conquest. To be is to be beyond the human. To be a human being doesn't do… — Clarice Lispector Copy Share Image
The only truth is that I live. Sincerely, I live. Who am I? Well, that's a bit much. — Clarice Lispector Copy Share Image
“Between two musical notes there exists another note, between two facts there exists another fact, between two grains of sand, no matter how close… — Clarice Lispector Copy Share Image
“It isn't for us that cows' milk comes forth, but we drink it. Flowers weren't made for us to look at or for us… — Clarice Lispector Copy Share Image
Love is now, is always. All that is missing is the coup de grâce- which is called passion. — Clarice Lispector Copy Share Image
What I want is to live of that initial and primordial something that was what made some things reach the point of aspiring to… — Clarice Lispector Copy Share Image
“I see that the wardrobe looks penetrable because it has a door. But when I open it, I see that penetration has been put… — Clarice Lispector Copy Share Image
