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Anais Nin

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“Often, though, the passivity of the woman's role weighs on me, suffocates me. Rather than wait for his pleasure, I would like to take it, to run wild. Is it that which pushes me into lesbianism? It terrifies me. Do women act thus? Does June go to Henry when she wants him? Does she mount him? Does she wait for him? He guides my inexperienced hands. It is like a forest fire, to be with him. New places of my body are aroused and burnt. He is incendiary. I leave him in an unquenchable fever.”

WantDoeBodyHandsRunningWaitingPleasureRolesFireGuidesForestsJuneFeverWant HimPassivityNew PlacesLesbianismForest FiresWait For HimWomen's Roles
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“Again I take a taxi to Clichy address, but feel that I do not want to go on loving Henry more actively than he loves me (having realized that nobody will ever love me in that overabundant, overexpressive, overthoughtful, overhuman way I love people), and so I will wait for him. So I ask taxi driver to drop me at the Galeries Lafayette, where I begin to look for a new hat and to shop for Christmas. Pride? I don't know. A kind of wise retreat. I need people too much. So I bury my gigantic defect, my overflow of love, under trivialities, like a child. I amuse myself with a new hat.”

PeopleKnowsWayWantNeedsFeelsLooksKindChildrenAsksWaitingToo MuchWisePrideGoes OnShopsHatsAddressesDriversRetreatDefectsTaxiOverflowTrivialityWait For HimLafayette
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“Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous. I want to be a writer who reminds others that these moments exist; I want to prove that there is infinite space, infinite meaning, infinite dimension. But I am not always in what I call a state of grace. I have days of illuminations and fevers. I have days when the music in my head stops. Then I mend socks, prune trees, can fruits, polish furniture. But while I am doing this I feel I am not living.”

WantFeelsDoeStatesMomentsInterestSpaceGraceTreeProveOrdinaryInfiniteFruitDimensionsMarvelousFurniturePolishAccordFeverIlluminationSockOrdinary LifeSurrealistPrunesInfinite Space
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“I want to hear raucous music, to see faces, to brush against bodies, to drink fiery Benedictine. Beautiful women and handsome men arouse fierce desires in me. I want to dance. I want drugs. I want to know perverse people, to be intimate with them. I never look at naive faces. I want to bite into life, and to be torn by it.”

PeopleKnowsMenWantLooksBodyBeautifulFacesDesireDrinkDrugIntimateBitesFierceBrushesTornHandsomeNaiveBeautiful WomenFieryHandsome Men
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“Why do I doubt her? Perhaps she is just very sensitive, and hypersensitive people are false when others doubt them; they waver. And one thinks them insincere. Yet I want to believe her. At the same time it does not seem so very important that she should love me. It is not her role. I am so filled with my love of her. And at the same time I feel that I am dying. Our love would be death. The embrace of imaginings.”

PeopleThinkingWantFeelsShouldBelieveDoeImportantSeemsWould BeRolesDoubtDyingFilledEmbraceSensitiveOur LoveInsincere
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“Too late for changes, too late perhaps for explanations and ideological webs, but the love goes on, the love goes on, blind to laws and warnings and even to wisdom and to fears. And whatever that love is, perhaps an illusion of a new love, I want it, I cant resist it, my whole being melts in one kiss, my knowledge melts, my fears melt, my blood dances, my legs open.”

WantLoveWholeLawLove IsBloodGoes OnKissingLateIllusionBlindLegsExplanationToo LateWarningCantIdeologicalBeing Me
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