I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath. (Anchor; Unabridged edition October 17, 2000) Advertisements
So the summer has ended … Now in October the thick mist has come, thickening and blotting. — Virginia Woolf, entry, October 1934, A Writer’s Diary (Mariner Books, 2003)
But who saved me from the truth? No one ever spared me that. The world needs the truth. No matter how painful. Because when people bury the truth it festers. — Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 5: 1947-1955. (Mariner Books; First edition, March 26, 1975) Originally published 1966.
I was veiled in a great sadness which was pierced at times by the lightning of my rage. Loneliness, torn apart for a moment by hope, closed over me again. — Jean Genet, Journal du voleur (The Thief’s Journal). Trans. Bernard Frechtman. Published in english 1964. Originally published 1949.
There can be no more beautiful spot to die in, no spot more worthy of total despair, than one’s own novel. — Franz Kafka, Diaries, 1910-1923. (Schocken, October 30, 1988) Originally published 1949.
I fly, I crawl, I weep, I laugh, I swim, I grow, I fall, I need, I want, I follow, I break, I sink, I love, I exist. — Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 5: 1947-1955. (Mariner Books; First edition, March 26, 1975) Originally published 1966.
Good-night, sweet princess. You are still on your own; be stoic; don’t panic; get through this hell to the generous sweet overflowing giving love of spring. — Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals Of Sylvia Plath. (Anchor; Unabridged edition October 17, 2000)