What did Clarice Lispector mean by: You don’t understand music: you hear it. So hear me with your whole body. Clarice Lispector Writer · Ukraine Copy
I write and that way rid myself of me and then at last I can rest. Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Clarice Lispector, Catharsis, Escape, Reflection, 0 Clarice Lispector Writer · Ukraine
Living isn’t courage, knowing that you’re living, that’s courage Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Clarice Lispector, Awareness, Courage, Existence, 0 Clarice Lispector Writer · Ukraine
It is because I dove into the abyss that I am beginning to love the abyss I am made of. Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Clarice Lispector, Exploration, Self-discovery, Transformation, 0 Clarice Lispector Writer · Ukraine
There it is, the sea, the most incomprehensible of non-human existences. Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Clarice Lispector, Existence, Mystery, Nature, 0 Clarice Lispector Writer · Ukraine
So long as I have questions to which there are no answers, I shall go on writing. Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Clarice Lispector, Creativity, Inquiry, Persistence, 0 Clarice Lispector Writer · Ukraine
But don’t forget, in the meantime, that this is the season for strawberries. Yes. Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Clarice Lispector, Enjoyment, Reminder, Seasonality, 0 Clarice Lispector Writer · Ukraine
Love is now, is always. All that is missing is the coup de grâce- which is called passion. Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Clarice Lispector, Love, Passion, 0 Clarice Lispector Writer · Ukraine
Do you know that hope sometimes consists only of a question without an answer? Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Clarice Lispector, Hope, Questioning, Uncertainty, 0 Clarice Lispector Writer · Ukraine
After the writer’s death, reading his journal is like receiving a long letter. Read explanation Jean Cocteau Artist · France
I just love the world around me and wanted my audience to love and appreciate it too. Jean Craighead George
There is something all life has in common, and when I know what it is I shall know myself. Jean Craighead George
