If you looked down to the bottom of my soul, you would understand fully the source of my longing and – pity me. Even the open, transparent lake has its unknown depths, which no divers know. — Hans Christian Andersen, Letter to Edvard Collin in 1835
I would never re-write you. You are by far my most complete and greatest novel. You and your splendor; lingering in my brain across a timelessly barefoot reality. — Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West, 23 November 1926.
…but people like me love only ghosts. If I ever loved a human being–I would soon go to ruin. — Friedrich Nietzsche, from a letter to Franz Overbeck wr. c. October 1883
The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the Eyes of others only a Green thing that stands in the way. Some see Nature all ridicule and deformity, and by these I shall not regulate my proportions; and some scarce see Nature at all. But to the Eyes of the Man of… Continue reading William Blake
…madness is not hysteria. It can be very quiet… – Anne Sexton, Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters. (Mariner Books, October 1, 2004) Originally published January 1st 1977.
I’ve loved everything, I knew how to love everything except the other, the other who was alive. The other has always bothered me; it was a wall against which I broke, I didn’t know how to live with the living. Hence my feeling that I was not a woman but a soul.[…] You simply have… Continue reading Marina Tsvetaeva
I made a tiny hole in the wall with a long nail so that I could watch them screw. Image is what I saw; metaphor is when my tongue caught fire. If it’s the image I wish to employ it is because I want you to stand in my my shoes and make you see… Continue reading Charles Simi