MOVED TO AERIZUSA.

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[anaisninpdf]

Moved to @aerizusa. 🖤

[petaltexturedskies]

Anaïs Nin, Fire: From "A Journal of Love" The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin: 1934-1937

[petaltexturedskies]

I see that you understand me, and I am afraid of your understanding. I have such a fear of finding another like myself, and such a desire to find one! I am so utterly lonely, but I also have such a fear that my isolation be broken through, and I no longer be the head and ruler of my universe .

Anaïs Nin, House of Incest

[funeral]

William Blake, A Vision of the Last Judgment

[spooksier]

passages that make you whisper "oh my god"

[terrorignitis]

The finest thing in the world is knowing how to belong to oneself.

Michel de Montaigne, Of Solitude

[venustapolis]

The source (Georges Lorin, 1857 - 1938)

[unscriptd-deactivated20260317]

Rendezvous Pierre Charles Comte

[billellsworth-deactivated201812]

“I want to meet no one; I want to say nothing; I want to go down and rest in the black earth of silence.”

— Robert Bly, from “Depression,” Eating the Honey of Words (HarperCollins, 1999)

[petaltexturedskies]

These October days are to me a little strained and surrounded with silence. What I mean by this last word I don't quite know, since I have never stopped "seeing" people—no, it's not physical silence; it's some inner loneliness-interesting to analyse if one could.

Virginia Woolf, in a diary entry written c. October 1931, from The Diary of Virginia Woolf, Volume IV: 1931-1935

[apocryphics]

Jorie Graham

[petaltexturedskies]

I also felt that she was holding herself together with a safety pin, was forcing herself to be clear, articulate, active—to keep moving, one step ahead of the sledgehammer of grief.

James Baldwin, The Evidence of Things Not Seen

[alchemicalcodes]

Anaïs Nin

[mournfulroses]

Fyodor Dostoevsky, from a letter featured in Letters of Fyodor Michailovitch Dostoevsky to his Family & Friends

[namedvesta]

[vizuart]

[solcattus]

Ladies in the Park, 1850s

By François Claudius Compte-Calix

[anaisninpdf]

It is Nature that has to be grasped when one works in the area of fiction. It is mankind’s heart, the most remarkable of Nature’s works, and not virtue, because virtue, however lovely and necessary, is only one facet of this extraordinary heart, the profound study of which is essential to the novelist. And the novel, the faithful mirror of this heart, has to explore its every fold.

Marquis de Sade in Thomas Moore, Dark Eros: The Imagination of Sadism