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In the last analysis a man is measured by his hunger; there is no other way of figuring things out. (chapter 1)

— Clarice Lispector A Maçã no escuro (1961)

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More quotes by Clarice Lispector

I just want to say that I write not for money but on impulse.

I am so lost. But that is exactly how we live; lost in time and space.

There it is, the sea, the most incomprehensible of non-human existences.

An Apprenticeship or The Book of Pleasures (1968)

I have an affectionate fondness for the unfinished, the poorly made, whatever awkwardly attempts a little flight and falls clumsily to the ground.

Could love be giving your own solitude to another? Because that's the ultimate thing you can give of yourself.

An Apprenticeship or The Book of Pleasures (1968)

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