The Chandelier Clarice Lispector Quotes

In the sky, through the window, white clouds were coming undone, running loose from the calm blue.

Yet around her things were living so violently sometimes. The sun was fire, the earth solid and possible, plants were sprouting alive, trembling, whimsical, houses were made so that in them bodies could be sheltered, arms would wrap around waists, for every being and for every thing there was another being and another thing in a union that was a burning end with nothing beyond.