"And so she was laughing. It was a laugh that only one who doesn’t speak, laughs. And she kept enjoying her own soft laughter, she who wasn’t being devoured. Not being devoured is the most perfect of feelings. Not being devoured is the secret goal of an entire life. So long as she wasn’t being eaten, her bestial laughter was as delicate as joy is delicate."
- Clarice Lispector
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