For all these times

[petaltexturedskies]

Anaïs Nin, Henry and June: From "A Journal of Love": The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1931-1932

[geryone]

Ecstasy, Alex Dimitrov

[coffee-quotes]

Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin (1939-1947)

[nousrose]

We may seem to forget a person, a place, a state of being, a past life, but meanwhile what we are doing is selecting new actors, seeking the closest reproduction to the friend, the lover, the husband we are trying to forget, in order to re-enact the drama with understudies. And one day we open our eyes and there we are, repeating the same story. How could it be otherwise? The design comes from within us. It is internal. It is what the old mystics described as karma, repeated until the spiritual or emotional experience was understood, liquidated, achieved.

Seduction of the Minotaur

Anaïs Nin

[metamorphesque]

Henry to Anaïs A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller

[sfsolstice]

Anaïs Nin, in a letter to Henry Miller, d. March 9, 1932, from A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller, 1932-1953

[mournfulroses]

Anaïs Nin, from a letter to Joaquin Nin, featured in Reunited: The Correspondence of Anais and Joaquin Nin, 1933-1940

[serpenservm]

Wen Jiang, “Yángguāng cànlàn de rìzi” (In the Heat of the Sun). 1994.

[petaltexturedskies]

Michael Cunningham, from "Ever After" in A Wild Swann & Other Tales

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— unknown (via letsbelonelytogetherr)

[mournfulroses]

Clarice Lispector, from her novel titled "The Passion According to G. H.," originally published in 1964

[mournfulroses]

Marina Tsvetaeva, from a letter to Boris Pasternak featured in Letters, Summer 1926

[oditorie]

[inkpressedpetals]

[aphonicchaos]

-Sylvia Plath, from a letter to Aurelia Plath written c. August 1951

[petaltexturedskies]

Evening. Waiting for the Cat in the early gloom of shorter days. How I love the summer and how little I have had of it—exactly two months of loveliness in a year, and of that, two weeks of warmth. And it is already winter.

Anaïs Nin in a diary entry written c. October 1926 featured in The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1923-1927

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Jay Vespertine

Text ID: “Maybe in a parallel universe i was not betrayed so poetically.”