‘But to look back from the stony plain along the road which led one to that place is not at all the same thing as walking on the road; the perspective to say the very least, changes only with the journey; only when the road has, all abruptly and treacherously, and with an absoluteness that permits no argument, turned or dropped or risen is one able to see all that one could not have seen from any other place.’

– James Baldwin, Go Tell It on the Mountain

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‘And woman was mystery in itself, she discovered. There was in all of them a quality of raw material, something that might one day define itself but which was never realized, because its real essence was “becoming”. Wasn’t it precisely through this that the past was united with the future and with all times?’

– Clarice Lispector, Near to the Wild Heart

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‘No, she told them softly from the bottom of her new truth, no… The faces turned to smoke, for she had always been. For her body had never needed anyone, it was free. For she had walked through the streets. She drank water, had abolished God, the world, everything.’

‘And with each instant she fell deeper and deeper into herself, into caverns of milky light, her breathing vibrant, full of fear and happiness at the journey, perhaps like falling in sleep. Her intuition that those moments were fragile made her move lightly afraid to touch herself, to stir up and dissolve that miracle, the tender being of light and air that was trying to live inside her.’

– Clarice Lispector, Near to the Wild Heart 

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