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A big enough artist, I say, can eat anything, must eat everything and then alchemize it. Only the feeble writer is afraid of expansion.

Anais Nin

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Anais Nin
Age: 73 †
Born: 1903
Born: February 21
Died: 1977
Died: January 14
Author
Autobiographer
Diarist
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
Neuilly
Angela Anaïs Juana Antolina Rosa Edelmira Nin y Culmell
Anais Nin
Anything
Everything
Enough
Feeble
Must
Expansion
Afraid
Writer
Bigs
Artist

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The violence and obscenity are left unadulterated, as manifestation of the mystery and pain which ever accompanies the act of creation.
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We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are. Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage People living deeply have no fear of death.
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Writers do not live one life, they live two. There is the living and then there is the writing. There is the second tasting, the delayed reaction.
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Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age.
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He does not need opium. He has the gift of reverie.
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Our love lives because I live.
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[On Paris:] A city never entirely known, yet which gives you the feeling of intimacy, of possessing it intimately.
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I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.
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Dreams are essential to life.
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This diary is my kief, hashish and opium pipe. This is my drug and my vice.
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Hollywood is a mirage factory.
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I am quite wiling to confide entirely in human being, except that at some moment or another human beings get preoccupied, moody, busy, inattentive, and there come an end to the interest, and this never happens in a journal!
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He was jealous of her future, and she of his past.
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There were silences in my head. I could abandon myself completely to the pleasure of multiple relationships, to the beauty of the day, to the joys of the day. It was as if a cancer in me had ceased gnawing me. The cancer of introspection.
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The woman will sit eternally in the tall black armchair. I will be the one woman you will never have...excessive living weighs down the imagination: we will not live, we will only write and talk to swell the sails.
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Jazz is the music of the body.
Anais Nin
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Innocence was gone from all our acts. Our habitual state of rebellion became a serious political crime.
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I was thinking of my patients, and how the worst moment for them was when they discovered they were masters of their own fate. It was not a matter of bad or good luck. When they could no longer blame fate, they were in despair.
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I like extravagance. Letters which give the postman a stiff back to carry, books which overflow from their covers, sexuality which bursts the thermometers.
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She lacks confidence, she craves admiration insatiably. She lives on the reflections of herself in the eyes of others. She does not dare to be herself.
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