Sublime

In our society, women have lived, and have been despised for living, the whole side of life that includes and takes responsibility for helplessness, weakness, and illness, for the irrational and the irreparable, for all that is obscure, passive, uncontrolled, animal, unclean—the valley of the shadow, the deep, the depths of life.

A alucinação moderna que prende as mulheres, ou na qual elas mesmas se prendem, é, da mesma forma, cruel, rígida e adornada de eufemismos.

To confine the beauty and value of the body to anything less than this magnificence is to force the body to live without its rightful spirit, its rightful form, its right to exultation. To be thought ugly or unacceptable because one’s beauty is outside the current fashion is deeply wounding to the natural joy that belongs to the wild nature.

As jovens ao meu redor, que deveriam ter sido as mais brilhantes, mais ambiciosas e mais competentes a terem habitado o planeta – por haverem herdado as conquistas e a capacidade de análise do feminismo –, costumavam estar presas na armadilha de um ciclo desesperado de inanição compulsiva, exercícios compulsivos ou “ataques” incontroláveis de comil

On this middle path we seek out what the Swedish call lagom. This word is often translated as “enough”; however, it is far more nuanced and lovely than that. A closer definition is “just the right amount.” Perhaps the most important thing to recognize about lagom is that by definition it is subjective. There is beauty in all its flexibility, in kno

Grace Macaulay, then: seventeen, small and plump, with skin that went brown by the end of May. Her hair was black and oily, and had the hot consoling scent of an animal in summer. She disliked books, and was by nature a thief if she found a thing to be beautiful, but not hers. She didn’t know she couldn’t sing. She was inclined to be cross.