Best Cixous Quotes

#1. And this morning I am without fire, my marrow is ash, I am very sad.

Helene Cixous

#2. In the synagogue of my heart ...
I myself jail and the jailed, I go wounded, bite-marked

Helene Cixous

#3. It is said that life and death are under the power of language.

Helene Cixous

#4. The author of what I describe is not myself, it is the Other. First of all it is you, it is the woman, it is the queen, it is the Child, it is a person who is greater than I and who surpasses you as well, whom you do not know. I am your scribe.

Helene Cixous

#5. This is a book of raw flesh.

Helene Cixous

#6.
All that because Promethea is a woman? All this uproar, this trembling, this resistance?
Yes. No. Y-Yes ... Naynayno. Whynoyes.
Yes, Promethea is a woman.
Yes, but "because is a woman," that is not important.
But no it precisely its not being important that is so important.

Helene Cixous

#7. You can go on losing after loss.

Helene Cixous

#8. When you went away, you left me nothing but the sun-bleached world. You did not even leave me a heart to bleed with. I found I was standing there with no body, and so no voice for calling you.

Helene Cixous

#9. Power belongs to the smallest and to the dead.

Helene Cixous

#10. Censor the body and you censor breath and speech at the same time. Write yourself. Your body must be heard.

Helene Cixous

#11. The refugees leave a refuge, enter a refuge run to the windows, what they see makes them move on, they move, refuge means move, move moves on into madness, my book I say is on the move, we are moving each other

Helene Cixous

#12. There are so many kinds of reality, and so many secret openings in the walls we think are mute.

Helene Cixous

#13. I would touch its walls with my fingers and its ceilings with my looks, I would invoke the powers of writing, I would bathe my soul in the rivers of unknown thoughts that genius unrolls when surrounded by the song of all the books its heart receives the marvelous measures of its own speech ...

Helene Cixous

#14. Only when you are lost can love find itself in you without losing its way.

Helene Cixous

#15. The most beautiful things cannot be written, unfortunately. Fortunately. We would have to be able to write with our eyes, with wild eyes, with the tears of our eyes, with the frenzy of a gaze, with the skin of our hands.

Helene Cixous

#16. The more I anoint the more my mind adheres physically to the mysterious fabric of love.
I am decutie. Worn thin. You know that word?

Helene Cixous

#17. Sometimes I wait for you at the exact edge of the jetty where we left each other. Sometimes I disappear into an unconscious hole and lie there silted up in stories having nothing to do with the vigorous immediacy of our epic.

Helene Cixous

#18. One has to go away, leave the self. How far must one not arrive in order to write, how far must one wander and wear out and have pleasure? One must walk as far as the night. One's own night. Walking through the self toward dark.

Helene Cixous

#19. Perhaps what I do not manage to operate rapidly enough is the passage between the outside and the inside.

Helene Cixous

#20. If my desire is possible, it means the system is already letting something else through.

Helene Cixous

#21. It beings with fear, passion begins with a fear. Fear is the trembling of faith. One cannot have faith without being afraid. One cannot have faith, no human being. Being human is that: to have faith that's been fractured then stuck back together.

Helene Cixous

#22. So little by little I climb towards life, in the straitjacket of my prison. I don't waste an ounce of air or sun. I explore I bring to light.

Helene Cixous

#23. I am not innocent. Innocence is a science of the sublime. And I am only at the very beginning of the apprenticeship.

Helene Cixous

#24. They will never forgive us for this Somewhere Else.

Helene Cixous

#25. A true solitude is not unbearable since it allows for otherness.

Helene Cixous

#26. Writing, in its noblest function, is the attempt to unerase, to unearth, to find the primitive picture again, ours, the one that frightens us.

Helene Cixous

#27. An old cardboard box: you think it but you don't say it.
Leftovers, that are swept up and glued together.
I am your alipte, I say, I am your personal trainer and masseuse. I oil you.
But there's no ointment against the bad thoughts and phantasms.

Helene Cixous

#28. I did not even know this existed ... this world, I did not know. I thought it existed only in one's head, and in dreams ... And now: here I am.

Helene Cixous

#29. To fly/steal is woman's gesture, to steal into language to make it fly.

Helene Cixous

#30. And I? I drink, I burn, I gather dreams.
And sometimes I tell a story. Because Promethea asks me for a bowl of words before she goes to sleep.

Helene Cixous