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Idealism is the death of the body and the imagination. All but freedom, utter freedom, is death

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
Utter
Imagination
Freedom
Death
Body
Idealism

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We don't have a language for the senses. Feelings are images, sensations are like musical sounds.
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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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Our love of each other was like two long shadows kissing without hope of reality.
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The impetus to grow and live intensely is so powerful in me I cannot resist it. I will work, I will love my husband, but I will fulfill myself.
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Anxiety is love's greatest killer, because it is like the stranglehold of the drowning.
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I will always be the virgin-prostitute, the perverse angel, the two-faced sinister and saintly woman.
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The inner chambers of the soul are like the photographer's darkroom. Like a laboratory. One cannot stay there all the time or it becomes the solitary cell of the neurotic.
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Anxiety is loves greatest killer.
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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.
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In my childhood diary I wrote: “I have decided that it is better not to love anyone, because when you love people, then you have to be separated from them, and that hurts too much.
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Luxury is not a necessity to me, but beautiful and good things are.
Anais Nin
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Where the myth fails, human love begins. Then we love a human being, not our dream, but a human being with flaws.
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America hates the artist. It will not admit: the artist is my soul and I want to kill off my soul.
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The real wonders of life lie in the depths. Exploring the depths for truths is the real wonder which the child and the artist know: magic and power lie in truth.
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Sexual intercourse... a joyous, joyous, joyous, joyous impaling of woman on man's sensual mast.
Anais Nin
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... only love begets love.
Anais Nin
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I am aware of being in a beautiful prison, from which I can only escape by writing.
Anais Nin
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The artist is the only one who knows that the world is a subjective creation, that there is a choice to be made, a selection of elements.
Anais Nin
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We write to taste life twice, in the moment, and in retrospection.
Anais Nin
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... and the very folds of the curtains contained secrets and sighs.
Anais Nin