“And the fascinating thing about our love is that it expresses itself in so many ways,
in all ways,
in SOUNDS and in SILENCES.
The most wonderful silences ever created.”
—Rupert Pole from a letter to Anaïs Nin
c. August 1953
Why be a spineless jellyfish when you could be a shark?
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“Her face radiated something of the last century’s romantic glow,”
—Sándor Márai Esther’s Inheritance.
c. 1939
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To: Lush Members
From: Me
“You’re responsible for yourself.
You messed up your life, and it’s up to you to fix it.
No one else is going to do it for you — for any of you.”
—Louis Sachar
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“Unworldly, transparent, whimsical and detached, caring very little what people say,”
—Virginia Woolf c. September 1918
The Diary of Virginia Woolf: Volume I (1915-1919)
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“Always learn poems by heart.
They have to become the marrow in your bones.
Like fluoride in the water,
they’ll make your soul impervious to the world’s soft decay.”
—Janet Fitch
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“How warm you are, how warm and human,”
—Anaïs Nin The Four-Chambered Heart
c. 1950
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“I can't help loving you with all the intensity of my soul.”
—Aline Bernstein from a letter to Thomas Wolfe
c. July 1930
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“I’ve been thinking about you.
It appears that I have thought only of you.
Also I’ve been thinking of murder.”
—Elizabeth Waugh from a letter to Edmund Wilson
c. January 1937
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“You taught Gods how to dance to the songs of hell.”
—Nikita Gill “Great Goddesses: Life Lessons from Myths & Monsters”
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“There was nothing in her that one could hate and every thing one could love.”
—Albert Camus Notebooks (1951-1959)
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“But the human heart is devious,”
—Margaret Atwood “The Testaments”
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“The existence of forgetting has never been proved:
we only know that some things do not come to our mind when we want them to.”
—Friedrich Nietzsche
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“Her soul was already in flames.” —Margaret Atwood “The Testaments”
I might have posted this before¿?
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“You're alone, you're in love, you're with me,
And till dusk, full of yearning, I'm with you,
I'm with you,”
“When someone you love dies, and you're not expecting it, you don't lose her all at once;
you lose her in pieces over a long time - the way the mail stops coming, and her scent fades from the pillows and
even from the clothes in her closet and drawers.
Gradually, you accumulate the parts of her that are gone.
Just when the day comes - when there's a particular missing part that overwhelms you with the feeling that she's gone, forever - there comes another day, and another specifically missing part.”
—John Irving
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“I closed my mouth and spoke to you in a hundred silent ways.”