I know you from another picture

[bakewake]

If it is a woman's function to give, she must be replenished, too.

[evenasmallcough]

Arriving at August, I find I am not who I was in June. The tide has taken something out of me.

- Anne Morrow Lindbergh

[irelandsource]

'We all leave one another. We die, we change - it's mostly change - we outgrow our best friends; but even if I do leave you, I will have passed on to you something of myself; you will be a different person because of knowing me; it's inescapable'

— Edna O'Brien, Girl with Green Eyes

[mournfulroses]

Sylvia Plath, from a diary entry featured in The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[drops-of-universe]

I wish i could be normal about affection but my love language is merging souls

[shisasan]

March 16th, 1935 Virginia Woolf, “A Writer’s Diary” (1918 - 1941)

[meiageddes]

“Woman must come of age by herself…She must find her true center alone.”

— Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Gift from the Sea

[mournfulroses]

Simone de Beauvoir, from a diary entry featured in Diary of a Philosophy Student

[marypsue]

women get flak for having so many candles but like. what else is it socially acceptable and legal to light on fire after a long, stressful day

[mournfulroses]

Martha Gellhorn, from a letter to David Gurewitsch featured in The Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn

[mournfulroses]

Clarice Lispector, from "Too Much of Life Complete Chronicles," publ. in 2022

[perfectfeelings]

“Don’t be afraid anymore. Not of anyone. Not of anything. Nothing. Ever again. Listen to me: not ever again.”

— Marguerite Duras, from The North China Lover: A Novel

[dendriablog]

“Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.”

— Anaïs Nin

[aseaofquotes]

Nancy Mitford, The Blessing

[lipfilllers]

[quotespile]

“Oh, living is so uncomfortable. Everything presses in: the body demands, the spirit never ceases, living is like being weary but being unable to sleep – living is upsetting. You can’t walk around naked, either in body or in spirit.”

— Clarice Lispector, The Stream of Life

[mournfulroses]

Virginia Woolf, from her novel titled "The Waves," originally published in 1931