There are possibilities for me, certainly, but under what stone do they lie? — Franz Kafka, Diaries of Franz Kafka. (Schocken October 30, 1988) Originally published 1949.
‘Yes, Anais, I was thinking how I could betray you, but I can’t. I want you. I want to undress you, vulgarize you a bit—ah, I don’t know what I am saying. I am a little drunk because you are not here. I would like to clap my hands and, voila—Anais! I want to own… Continue reading Henry Miller
I don’t feel guilt at being unsociable, though I may sometimes regret it because my loneliness is painful. But when I move into the world, it feels like a moral fall–like seeking love in a whorehouse. — Susan Sontag, As Consciousness Is Harnessed To Flesh: Journals & Notebooks, 1964 – 1980 (FSG, 2012)
The light of memory, or rather the light that memory lends to things, is the palest light of all…I am not quite sure whether I am dreaming or remembering, whether I have lived my life or dreamed it. Just as dreams do, memory makes me profoundly aware of the unreality, the evanescence of the world,… Continue reading Eugène Ionesco
I want to be able to be alone, to find it nourishing – not just a waiting. — Susan Sontag, Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963. (Picador October 27, 2009)
When there is love, the world is conquered by lovers. All the better for us: we are enriched by their radiance. Their happiness makes the air purer. A poem incarnate. It is beyond criticism. It defies explanation. That defiance is the nature of the poem. — Édouard Boubat, Notebooks, 1998
I want to resemble a sort of liquid light which stretches beyond visibility or invisibility. Tonight I wish to have the valor and daring to belong to the moon. —Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary. (Mariner Books; First edition, March 31, 2003) Originally published 1953.
Kiss me, and you will see how important I am. ― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath. (Anchor; Unabridged edition October 17, 2000)
God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of “parties” with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter – they… Continue reading Sylvia Plath
In the journal I do not just express myself more openly than I do to any person; I create myself. The journal is a vehicle for my sense of selfhood. It represents me as emotionally and spiritually independent. Therefore (alas) it does not simply record my actual, daily life but rather—in many cases—offers an alternative… Continue reading Susan Sontag