There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall. ― Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette, Oeuvres complètes en seize volumes. (Flammarion November 19, 1992) Originally published April 18th 1974.
but fate is not entirelyto blame.we have wastedour chances,we have strangledour own hearts. — Charles Bukowski, from “misbegotten paradise,” New Poems Book Two. (Virgin Books June 30, 2008)
I love your silences, they are like mine. You are the only being before whom I am not distressed by my own silences. You have a vehement silence, one feels it is charged with essences, it is a strangely alive silence, like a trap open over a well, from which one can hear the secret… Continue reading Anaïs Nin