Claire Simpson

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The Bell Jar
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Clarice Lispector
“Oh, living is so uncomfortable. Everything presses in: the body demands, the spirit never ceases, living is like being weary but being unable to sleep–living is upsetting. You can’t walk around naked, either in body or in spirit.”
Clarice Lispector, The Stream of Life

Sarah Addison Allen
“It looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon.”
Sarah Addison Allen, First Frost

Clarice Lispector
“The word is my fourth dimension.”
Clarice Lispector

Clarice Lispector
“When I suddenly see myself in the depths of the mirror, I take fright. I can scarcely believe that I have limits, that I am outlined and defined. I feel myself to be dispersed in the atmosphere, thinking inside other creatures, living inside things beyond myself. When I suddenly see myself in the mirror, I am not startled because I find myself ugly or beautiful. I discover, in fact, that I possess another quality. When I haven't looked at myself for some time, I almost forget that I am human, I tend to forget my past, and I find myself with the same deliverance from purpose and conscience as something that is barely alive. I am also surprised to find as I gaze into the pale mirror with open eyes that there is so much in me beyond what is known, so much that remains ever silent.”
Clarice Lispector, Near to the Wild Heart
tags: self

Jeremy Radin
“Touch was absolutely
out of the question. I couldn’t stop sweating. My heart, a butterfly pinned
to a glacier. Empires fell inside my mouth. I touched myself like a pogrom
& broke my sex into a history of inconsequential shames. I wept viciously
inside of my own stomach & had it condemned. From an upside-down bell
I drank silence, subsisted on the memory of someone else’s hands. Wolves
sang & I did not answer. I forgot their names. Mornings were the worst, then
there were days & evenings. Streetlights & darkened sycamore & suburban
grief so full it made me foolish. I shattered my fist on the Lord’s jaw. Sorrow
sat, licking my wrists & my neck. I slept at its convenience. O, uncelebrated
body. My penis, a lighthouse on the bottom of the ocean, shining shadows
at the undersides of boats. Nobody drowned for so many years. Desperate
for the making of those candy-throated ghosts, I found the rooms between
the violence of comets. I threw myself into anything’s path. Even the sky
bent around me. How lonely to be something that nothing wants to kill. (So I Locked Myself Inside A Star for Twenty Years)”
Jeremy Radin

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