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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| 208d63e | What makes some butterflies have such beautiful colors on their wings, and others not?" "The plain ones were born of parents who didn't know how to paint." | Anaïs Nin | ||
| c467650 | kln mthkhnwn blshrwkh wlzdwjt wltnqDt | Anaïs Nin | ||
| 6fb9e53 | Everything with me is either worship and passion or pity and understanding. I hate rarely, though when I hate, I hate murderously. But I am more preoccupied with loving. | loving | Anaïs Nin | |
| e7938ae | She could do nothing. Djuna's words illuminated her chaos, but changed nothing. What was it Djuna said: that life tended to crystallize into patterns which became traps and webs. That people tended to see each other in their first "state" or "form" and to adopt a rhythm in consequence. That they had greatest difficulty in seeing the transformations of the loved one, in seeing the becoming. If they did finally perceive the new self, they had.. | Anaïs Nin | ||
| 0527166 | Do you have regrets that we were so overwhelmed? Do you ever wish to live those hours over again and differently, with more confidence. | Anaïs Nin | ||
| 679cca2 | I love you, June, and you know how acutely, how desperately. You know that no one can say or do anything to shake my love. I have taken you into myself, whole. You need have no fear of being unmasked, only loved. | unconditional-love | Anaïs Nin | |
| df5c429 | He was whispering over and over again the same phrase, "You have the body of an angel. It is impossible that such a body should have a sex. You have the body of an angel." The anger swept over Fay like a fever, an anger at his moving his penis away from her hand. She sat up, her hair wild about her shoulders, and said, "I am not an angel, Albert. I am a woman. I want you to love me as a woman." | Anaïs Nin | ||
| db59fb2 | am discovering her pretenses. She is always smiling, gay, but underneath she feels unreal, remote, detached from experience. She acts as if she were asleep. She is trying to awaken by falling into bed with anyone who invites her. | Anaïs Nin | ||
| ac92187 | She needed a confessor! Would she find it there, in the world of the artists? All over the world they had their meeting places, their affiliations, their rules of membership, their kingdoms, their chiefs, their secret channels of communication. They established common beliefs in certain painters, certain musicians, certain writers. They were the misplaced persons too, unwanted at home usually, or repudiated by their families. But they estab.. | Anaïs Nin | ||
| b15eb02 | No rest for me anywhere. No rest from writing, awareness, insights, memories, fantasies, analogies, free associations. Writing becomes imperative for a surcharged head. | Anaïs Nin | ||
| fb25cd5 | Hugo has been infinitely tender with me, but while he talks of June I think of our hands locked together. She does not reach the same sexual center of my being that man reaches; she does not touch that. What, then, has she moved in me? I have wanted to possess her as if I were a man, but I have also wanted her to love me with the eyes, the hands, the senses that only women have. It is a soft and subtle penetration. | Anaïs Nin | ||
| 9f0f6fe | Why does a gesture, a walk, stir your blood? What a mystery this is, desire. The love sickness, the sensitivity, the obsession, the flutter of the heart, the ebb and flow of the blood. There is no drug and no alcohol to equal it. | Anaïs Nin | ||
| 384476a | They smiled at each other. His smile, even at night was dazzling; hers, too. They could scarcely distinguish anything but the brilliant smiles and the outlines of their perfect bodies. | Anaïs Nin | ||
| 1d04fcd | She is bizarre, fantastic, nervous, like someone in a high fever. Her beauty drowned me. As I sat before her, I felt I would do anything she asked of me. Henry suddenly faded. She was color and brilliance and strangeness. By the end of the evening I had extricated myself from her power. She killed my admiration by her talk. Her talk. The enormous ego, false, weak, posturing. She | Anaïs Nin | ||
| 5ea2014 | Once a month, the moonstorm. Dust in the eyes and ghosts in the veins. The blood of woman is spilling and all the strength ebbs away. | Anaïs Nin | ||
| 1649239 | Now, his hair is white and he no longer understands anyone's need to love, for he has lost everything, not to love, but to his games of love; and when you love as a game, you lose everything, as he lost his home and wife, and now he clings to me, afraid of loss, afraid of solitude. | book-quotes-book books | Anaïs Nin | |
| 26459a7 | I am sure you would not understand if I told you my father is delightfully clear and selfish, tender and lying, formal and incurable. He exhausts all the loves given to him. If I did not leave his house at night to warm myself in Rango's burning hands I would die at my task, arid and barren, sapless, while my father monologues about his past, and I yawn yawn yawn... | book-quotes books | Anaïs Nin | |
| 5855ae6 | What does it mean that you have not written me?... Am I a dream to you, am I not real and warm for you? What new loves, new ecstasies, new impulses move you now? | Anaïs Nin | ||
| 865b4fc | You sought to preserve your creative instincts and what would nourish them. But neurosis itself does not nourish the artist, you know; he creates in spite of it, out of anything, any material given to him. The torments and hells of [crazy men], are not for you. | artist diary instincts nourishment-of-soul | Anaïs Nin | |
| f484a56 | This openness, which is closed again as soon as we face a partial relationship, the one who understands only one part of us, is the miraculous openess which takes place in whole love. | Anaïs Nin | ||
| 8c6d37b | Each one of us possesses in himself a separate and distinct city, a unique city, as we possess different aspects of the same person. | Anaïs Nin | ||
| d6ffc63 | Be bold, he says. Be brave. Be true to your birthright, what you recognize in your heart. | Wallace Stegner | ||
| 5460707 | We were two of a kind, the only difference being that he was reverential before all the traditional word magic, and I would steal it if I could. He came to the tradition as a pilgrim, I as a pickpocket. | pilgrim reverence theft tradition | Wallace Stegner | |
| 16d883d | Ambition is a path, not a destination, and it is essentially the same path for everybody. No matter what the goal is, the path leads through Pilgrim's Progress regions of motivation, hard work, persistence, stubbornness, and resilience under disappointment. Unconsidered, merely indulged, ambition becomes a vice; it can turn a man into a machine that knows nothing but how to run. Considered, it can be something else--pathway to the stars, ma.. | Wallace Stegner | ||
| 7cfa117 | Actually I am pretty pregnant with the news Sid brought me, but glad we have not spread it. The girls look very happy. With their heads bound up in babushkas they might be out of the peasant chorus of a Russian opera. Any minute now we will sing and dance to the balalaika. Charity is tall and striking; Sally smaller, darker, quieter. One dazzles, the other warms. In a couple of hours I will need sympathy, but for now I like being washed by .. | Wallace Stegner | ||
| 5842366 | Sally has a smile I would accept as my last view of earth, but it has a certain distance about it, it is under control, you can see her head going on working behind it. | Wallace Stegner | ||
| d899890 | You can't be close to the mortality of friends without being brought to think of your own. | Wallace Stegner | ||
| 2ec7af5 | It is not queer, and both desolating and comforting, how, with all associations broken, one forms new ones, as a broken bone thickens in healing. | isolation resilience | Wallace Stegner | |
| 2ca137f | It is hard doctrine, but I was beginning to understand it then, and I have not repudiated it till now: that love, not sin, costs us Eden. Love is a carrier of death - the only thing, in fact, that makes death significant. | Wallace Stegner | ||
| c77cbee | I wouldn't live in a colony like that, myself, for a thousand dollars an hour. I wouldn't want it next door. I'm not too happy it's within ten miles. Why? Because their soft-headedness irritates me. Because their beautiful thinking ignores both history and human nature. Because they'd spoil my thing with their thing. Because I don't think any of them is wise enough to play God and create a human society. Look. I like privacy, I don't like c.. | civilization colonization commune crowds history human-nature idealism noise privacy society study wild | Wallace Stegner | |
| 7c46e2f | Y]ou were too alert to the figurative possibilities of words not to see the phrase [angle of repose] as descriptive of human as well as detrital rest. As you said, it was too good for mere dirt; you tried to apply it to your own wandering and uneasy life ... I wonder if you ever reached it. | peace rest uneasiness wandering | Wallace Stegner | |
| 438c13c | In this room hung with the trophies of culture, her story sounded melodramatic and rough. She felt like a squaw explaining how you tanned a deerskin by working brains into the bloody hide and then chewing it all over until it was soft. | Wallace Stegner | ||
| b2755d2 | To belong to a clan, to a tight group of people allied by blood and loyalties and the mutual ownership of closeted skeletons. To see the family vices and virtues in a dozen avatars instead of in two or three. To know always, whether you were in Little Rock or Menton, that there was one place to which you belonged and to which you would return. To have that rush of sentimental loyalty at the sound of a name, to love and know a single place, .. | Wallace Stegner | ||
| f47385a | If you constantly fret about timing things perfectly, they'll never happen. | Jason Fried | ||
| 156f26c | Culture is action, not words. | Jason Fried | ||
| e09d81f | It's like when you're on hold and a recorded voice comes on telling you how much the company values you as a customer. Really? Then maybe you should hire some more support people so I don't have to wait thirty minutes to get help. | Jason Fried | ||
| 233ef57 | WE ALL HAVE ideas. Ideas are immortal. They last forever. What doesn't last forever is inspiration. Inspiration is like fresh fruit or milk: It has an expiration date. | Jason Fried | ||
| 17d6d8f | Policies are organizational scar tissue. They are codified overreactions to situations that are unlikely to happen again. They are collective punishment for the misdeeds of an individual. This is how bureaucracies are born. No one sets out to create a bureaucracy. They sneak up on companies slowly. They are created one policy--one scar--at a time. So don't scar on the first cut. Don't create a policy because one person did something wrong o.. | Jason Fried | ||
| 08ebf98 | People automatically associate quitting with failure, but sometimes that's exactly what you should do. If you already spent too much time on something that wasn't worth it, walk away. You can't get that time back. The worst thing you can do now is waste even more time. | Jason Fried David Heinemeier Hansson Matthew Linderman 37 Signals | ||
| ba20b5d | for what is life, a good life, but the accumulation of small pleasures? | J. Maarten Troost | ||
| 7a13c98 | Education is not the filling of a bucket but the lighting of a fire. | Jim Trelease | ||
| aca0ad9 | So I ask you: whose job is it in this country to wake up comatose parents? Someone better do it soon because knowing television's potential for harm and keeping that knowledge to ourselves instead of sharing it with parents amounts to covering up a land mine on a busy street. | reading television | Jim Trelease | |
| c87d381 | Now what?" he finally asked. Tea came to stand in the doorway of her office. "Now what, what? Hey, is that you, Cal?" "Affirmative." Affirmative? Was that the cutest or what?" | cute smart-people | Christie Ridgway | |
| 9f2375e | All I could hear was the violin, and it was as if Juliek's soul had become his bow. He was playing his life. His whole being was gliding over the strings. His unfulfilled hopes. His charred past, his extinguished future. | Elie Wiesel |