‘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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‘It is curious that I can’t say who I am. That is to say, I know it all too well, but I can’t say it… I feel who I am and the impression is lodged in the highest part of my brain, on my lips (especially on my tongue), on the surface of my arms and also running through me, deep inside my body, but where, exactly where, I can’t say. The taste is grey, slightly reddish, a bit bluish in the old parts, and it moves like gelatin, sluggishly. Sometimes it becomes sharp and wounds me, colliding with me.’

– Clarice Lispector, Near to the Wild Heart

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