― Anaïs Nin, Incest: From “A Journal of Love”: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1932-1934
[text ID: Reality doesn’t impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls.]
[text ID: I seem fated to pass through the world without colliding with it or moving it — and I’m sure I can’t tell you whether the fate’s good or evil. I don’t die — I don’t fall in love. And if other people die or fall in love they always do it when I’m just not there.]
[text ID: I never tried to be anything other than a dreamer. I never paid any attention to people who told me to go out and live. I belonged always to whatever was far from me and to whatever I could never be. Anything that was not mine, however base, always seemed to be full of poetry. The only thing I ever loved was pure nothingness.]
