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Do you ever suddenly find it strange to be yourself?

Clarice Lispector

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Clarice Lispector
Age: 56 †
Born: 1920
Born: December 10
Died: 1977
Died: December 9
Journalist
Model
Novelist
Screenwriter
Translator
Writer
Chechelnik
Helen Palmer
Teresa Quadros
Suddenly
Strange
Find
Ever

More quotes by Clarice Lispector

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Do you know that hope sometimes consists only of a question without an answer?
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Her curiosity instructed her more than the answers she was given.
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I hear the mad song of a little bird and crush butterflies between my fingers.
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The only truth is that I live. Sincerely, I live. Who am I? Well, that's a bit much.
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I write to save someone's life, probably my own
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And 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.
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Whether she won or lost, she would continue to wrestle with life. It would not be with her own life alone but with all of life. Something had finally been released within her. And there it was, the sea.
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I work only with lost and founds.
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I' is merely one of the world's instantaneous spasms.
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I write as if to save somebody’s life. Probably my own. Life is a kind of madness that death makes. Long live the dead because we live in them.
Clarice Lispector
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Love is so much more deadly than I had thought, love is so much inherent as the very lack, and we are guaranteed by a need to be renewed continuously. Love is now, is forever. There is just the blow of grace - call it passion.
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Today at school I wrote an essay about Flag Day which was so beautiful, but ever so beautiful - for I even used words without really knowing what they meant.
Clarice Lispector
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Love is now, is always. All that is missing is the coup de grâce- which is called passion.
Clarice Lispector
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My life, the most truthful one, is unrecognizable, extremely interior, and there is no single word that gives it meaning.
Clarice Lispector
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How was she to tie herself to a man without permitting him to imprison her? And was there some means of acquiring things without those things possessing her?
Clarice Lispector
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I write and that way rid myself of me and then at last I can rest.
Clarice Lispector
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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 Lispector
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So long as I have questions to which there are no answers, I shall go on writing.
Clarice Lispector
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No it is not easy to write. It is as hard as breaking rocks. Sparks and splinters fly like shattered steel.
Clarice Lispector
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And now -- now it only remains for me to light a cigarette and go home. Dear God, only now am I remembering that people die. Does that include me? Don't forget, in the meantime, that this is the season for strawberries. Yes.
Clarice Lispector