Fire: from "A journal of love, the unexpurgated diary of Anaïs Nin, 1934-1937
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Anaïs Nin, from Henry and June: From “A Journal of Love,” The Unexpurgated Diary (1931-1932) of Anaïs Nin
Text ID: You carry away with you a reflection of me, a part of me. I dreamed you, I wished for your existence. You will always be part of my life. If I love you, it must be because we have shared at some time the same imaginings, the same madness,
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— Anaïs Nin, Trapeze: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1947–1955
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"I felt him in everything. And what I felt was too deep."
— Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary; 1939-1947
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- A Literate Passion: Letters of Anais Nin and Henry Miller, 1932-1953
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My whole being calls for an act of violence, but I still use velvet gloves.
Anaïs Nin, The Unexpurgated Diary; 1939-1947
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The truth is that this is the only way I can live: in two directions. I need two lives. I am two beings.
— Anaïs Nin, Henry and June from "A Journal of Love" : The Unexpurgated Diaries of Anaïs Nin 1931-1932
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Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another.
Cafe in the Globe bookstore, Prague, 1994. Photo by Gueorgui Pinkhassov // text by Anaïs Nin, Incest: From "A Journal of Love": The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1932-1934
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Only, I am in love, because my heart is awake to every vibration, to every touch of nature and humanity. I feel, always, from day to day, sorrow and joy. I live and dream love.
🍂 Anais Nin, The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin
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The white blossoms touched my lips. They were like the skin of a woman. My lips pressed them, opened and closed gently around them. Soft petaled kisses. I bit into the white blossoms. Morsel of perfumed flesh, silkiness of skin.
Anaïs Nin, from Henry & June; a journal of love: the unexpurgated diary of Anaïs Nin (1932-1934)
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Anaïs Nin, from Henry and June: From “A Journal of Love,” The Unexpurgated Diary (1931-1932) of Anaïs Nin
Text ID: There are no limits to what your life could be.
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― Anaïs Nin, in Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin (1939–1947); June 18, 1941
[ID: I...once so prodigal... /end ID]
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- A Literate Passion: Letters of Anais Nin and Henry Miller, 1932-1953
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I love your silences, they are like mine.
— Anaïs Nin, Under a Glass Bell
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