" What comes out of the roach’s belly is not transcendable—ah, I don’t want to say that it’s the opposite of beauty, “opposite of beauty” doesn’t even make sense—what comes out of the roach is: “today,” blessed be the fruit of thy womb—I want the present without dressing it up with a future that redeems it, not even with a hope—until now what hope wanted in me was just to conjure away the present.

But I want much more than that: I want to find the redemption in today, in right now, in the reality that is being, and not in the promise, I want to find joy in this instant—I want the God in whatever comes out of the roach’s belly—even if that, in my former human terms, means the worst, and, in human terms, the infernal. "

― Clarice Lispector , The Passion According to G.H.