When I am happy it is so rare. I need to dwell on it, to contemplate it. What a hunger, a craving for beautiful things. — Anaïs Nin, Nearer the Moon: The Previously Unpublished Unexpurgated Diary, 1937-1939. (Harcourt; 1st edition, November 1996)
I am always between two worlds, always in conflict. I would like sometimes to rest, to be at peace, to choose a nook, make a final choice, but I can’t. Some nameless, undescribable fear and anxiety keeps me on the move. On certain evenings like this, I would like to feel whole. Only a half… Continue reading Anaïs Nin
If we were on the right road, having to leave it would mean endless despair. But we are on a road that only leads to a second one and then to a third one and so forth. And the real highway will not be sighted for a long, long time, perhaps never. So we drift… Continue reading Franz Kafka
Diaries are very futile. I must be all dream or all deed. It is quite impossible for me to express any of the beauty I feel to half the degree I feel it; and yet it is a great pleasure to seize an impression and lock it up in words: you feel as if you… Continue reading Wallace Stevens
This is June, the month of grass and leaves … already the aspens are trembling again, and a new summer is offered me. — Henry David Thoreau, from “June 6, 1857,” Summer: From the Journal of Henry D. Thoreau, Volume 6. (Kessinger Publishing, LLC, May 26, 2006)
Everything with me is either worship and passion or pity and understanding. I hate rarely, though when I hate, I hate murderously…but I am more preoccupied with loving. — Anaïs Nin, Henry and June: From “A Journal of Love”–The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin. (Harvest Books; 1 edition October 29, 1990) Originally published 1986.
Desire for a deeper sleep that dissolves more. The metaphysical urge is only the urge towards death. — Franz Kafka, The Diaries of Franz Kafka, 1910-23. (Schocken, October 30, 1988)