booklover reblogged
“…to paint the halo of things. The halo is more important than the things and than the words […].”
— Clarice Lispector, Água Viva
booklover reblogged
I hardly exist and if I do exist it’s with delicate care.
Clarice Lispector, Água Viva
“Every thing has an instant in which it is. I want to grab hold of the is of the thing. These instants passing through the air I breathe: in fireworks they explode silently in space. I want to possess the atoms of time.”
— Clarice Lispector, Água Viva
“Listen…I let you be, so let me be in turn.”
— Clarice Lispector, Água Viva
“Before organizing myself, I have to disorganize myself internally. To experience the first, fleeting primary state of freedom. Of freedom to make mistake, to fall and get up again.”
— Clarice Lispector, Água Viva
“It hurts. Pain is exacerbated life. The process hurts. Coming-into-being is slow, slow, good pain. It’s a full stretching to the point a person can stretch no more. And the blood is thankful. I breathe, I breathe.”
— Clarice Lispector, Água Viva
holyisthenameofmyruthlessaxe
“I am alive. Like a wound, flower in the flesh, the path of sorrowful blood is opened within me.”
Água Viva, Clarice Lispector tr. Stefan Tobler
holyisthenameofmyruthlessaxe
“To create a being out of oneself is very serious. I am creating myself. And walking in complete darkness in search of ourselves is what we do. It hurts.”
Água Viva, Clarice Lispector tr. Stefan Tobler
booklover reblogged
salemwitchtrials-deactivated202
“I’m alive. Like a wound, a flower in the flesh, the path of aching blood is open within me.”
— The Stream of Life (Água Viva), Clarice Lispector
booklover reblogged
“I see that I’ve never told you how I listen to music- I gently rest my hand on the record player and my hand vibrates, sending waves through my whole body: and so I listen to the electricity of the vibrations, the last substratum of reality’s realm, and the world trembles in my hands.” | This book is magical, yet intense in its philosophical exploration of time, life, death, and art. Every single line is beautiful.
Now I know: I’m alone. I and my freedom that I don’t know how to use. Great responsibility of solitude. Whoever isn’t lost doesn’t know freedom and love it. As for me, I own up to my solitude that sometimes falls into ecstasy as before fireworks. I am alone and must live a certain intimate glory that in solitude can become pain. And the pain, silence. I keep its name secret. I need secrets in order to live.
Clarice Lispector; Água Viva