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I hear the mad song of a little bird and crush butterflies between my fingers.

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
Bird
Hear
Song
Butterflies
Littles
Butterfly
Little
Crush
Mad
Fingers

More quotes by Clarice Lispector

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Her curiosity instructed her more than the answers she was given.
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I just know that I don't want cheating. I refuse. I deepened myself but I don't believe in myself because my thought is invented.
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And I want to be held down. I don't know what to do with the horrifying freedom that can destroy me.
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You don't understand music: you hear it. So hear me with your whole body.
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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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In the world there exists no aesthetic plane, not even the aesthetic plane of goodness.
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Do you know that hope sometimes consists only of a question without an answer?
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Do you ever suddenly find it strange to be yourself?
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So long as I have questions to which there are no answers, I shall go on writing.
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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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Everything in the world began with a yes. One molecule said yes to another molecule and life was born.
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Who has not asked himself at some time or other: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?
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Love is now, is always. All that is missing is the coup de grâce- which is called passion.
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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.
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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.
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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 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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All 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 the prehistory and there was the never and there was the yes. It was ever so. I don’t know why, but I do know that the universe never began. Make no mistake, I only achieve simplicity with enormous effort.
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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