“And why don't you write? Write! Writing is for you, you are for you; your body is yours, take it. I know why you haven't written. (And why I didn't write before the age of twenty-seven.) Because writing is at… — Hélène Cixous Copy Share Image
“(Because Jonah’s real story is the one never told: never was he as stupendously happy as during those three days and three nights of… — Hélène Cixous Copy Share
“I, too, overflow; my desires have invented new desires, my body knows unheard-of songs. Time and again I, too, have felt so full of… — Hélène Cixous Copy Share
What happens: events interiors, snatch them from the cradle, from the source. I want to watch watching arrive. I want to watch arrivances. I… — Helene Cixous Copy Share
“And I? I drink, I burn, I gather dreams. And sometimes I tell a story. Because Promethea asks me for a bowl of words… — Hélène Cixous Copy Share
“The author of what I describe is not myself, it is the Other. First of all it is you, it is the woman, it… — Hélène Cixous Copy Share
Perhaps what I do not manage to operate rapidly enough is the passage between the outside and the inside. — Helene Cixous Copy Share
“Those I love go in the direction of what they call the last hour—what Clarice Lispector calls, “the hour of the star,” “the hour… — Hélène Cixous Copy Share
“Writing, in its noblest function, is the attempt to unerase, to unearth, to find the primitive picture again, ours, the one that frightens us.” — Hélène Cixous Copy Share
“Here I am now. And it is hell. Paradise? Yes, I still am here, but who? only myself, with my small waist, my small… — Hélène Cixous Copy Share
“Knowledge from experience: the heart goes blind because the need is stronger than anything else. Your ego is blind, your id is eager. It… — Hélène Cixous Copy Share
“I see nothing. I do not move. It is an empty time, animal time, vigilant, I am submerged, under the earth and under time.… — Hélène Cixous Copy Share
“Go, fly, swim, bound descend, cross, love the unknown, love the uncertain, love what has not yet been seen, love no one, whom you… — Hélène Cixous Copy Share
