2
" A sentence which might bear in mind that our great struggle is that of fear, and that if a man has killed compulsively, it is because he was extremely frightened. Above all, a justice which might examine itself, & recognize that all of us, a living quagmire, founded in darkness, & for this reason not a man's evil should be cosigned to another man's evil: so that the latter may not shoot to kill without restraint or censure. A justice which will not forget that we are all dangerous, & that at the hour when the executant of justice kills, he is no longer protecting us or seeking to eliminate a criminal; he is committing his own crime, which he has been harboring for a considerable time. At the hour of killing a criminal- at that very moment, an innocent man is being put to death. No, no, I am not asking for the sublime, nor for the things which gradually become the words which help me to sleep peacefully. Those of us who take refuge in the abstract are a mixture of forgiveness & vague charity. What I want is something much harsher & much more difficult: I want the terrestrial. "
― Clarice Lispector , The Foreign Legion
8
" The great question she raised involved me: is it worth while? I do not know, my ever greater calm replied, but it is so. There, before my silence, she surrendered to the process, & if she was asking me the great question, it had to go unanswered. She had to giver herself-for nothing. It had to be. And for nothing. She held back, unwilling to surrender. But I waited. I knew that we are that thing that must happen. I could be useful to her silence. And, dazed by misunderstanding, I could hear a heart beating inside me that was not mine. Before my fascinated eyes, like some emanation, she was being transformed into a child. "
― Clarice Lispector , The Foreign Legion
17
" Денят бе блед, а момчето – още по-бледо: юноша по неволя, обветрен, принуден да живее, но мек и нерешителен, сякаш някаква болка го правеше още по-невръстен, за разлика от нея, която се държеше нападателно. Каквито бяха неоформени, за тях всичко беше възможно и даже понякога си разменяха качествата: тя се проявяваше като мъж, а той – с почти недостойна женска благост. "
― Clarice Lispector , The Foreign Legion
