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The earth is heavy and opaque without dreams.
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
Without
Opaque
Anticipation
Heavy
Dreams
Dream
Earth
More quotes by Anais Nin
Perhaps a child, like a cat, is so much inside of himself that he does not see himself in the mirror.
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I am in great terror of your understanding by which you penetrate into my world and then I stand revealed and I have shared my kingdom with you.
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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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She walked in the shadow of Rango with a great feeling of being taken out of herself, of having no knowledge of what was happening to her, merely a pervading sense of flow.
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Life, religion and art all converge in Bali. They have no word in their language for 'artist' or 'art.' Everyone is an artist.
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When I stand at the top of the Champs-Elysées, with its chestnut trees in flower, its undulations of shining cars, its white spaciousness, I feel as if I were biting into a utopian fruit, something velvety and lustrous and rich and vivid.
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I love your silences, they are like mine.
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There is an ugliness in being paid for work one does not like.
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You have a right to experiment with your life. You will make mistakes. And they are right too.
Anais Nin
He was now in that state of fire that she loved. She wanted to be burnt.
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Nothing too long imagined can be perfect in a wordly way.
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One must be thrust out of a finished cycle in life, and that leap is the most difficult to make - to part with one's faith, one's love, when one would prefer to renew the faith and recreate the passion.
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atrophy of feeling creates criminals.
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The leaf fall of his words, the stained glass hues of his moods, the rust in his voice, the smoke in his mouth, his breath on my vision like human breath blinding a mirror.
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I am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom feelings are much stronger as reason.
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The love of only one man or one woman is an enclosure.
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Nowhere is inhumanity more revealed than in hospitals.
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The personal, if it is deep enough, becomes universal, mythical, symbolic.
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perhaps the only magician we have is the artist.
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I see enormous loves growing immense and finally crushing me.
Anais Nin