The truly faithless one is the one who makes love to only a fraction of you. And denies the rest.

Anais Nin

Anais Nin

Profession: Author
Nationality: French

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The only abnormality is the incapacity to love.

Also, I do not like the companionship of women. They are petty and personal. They hang on to their mysteries and secrets, they act and pretend. I like the character of men better.

And the time came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

I am eleven years old, I know, and I am not serious enough. Last night I said to myself: tomorrow I will be good. Good? I wasn't any better than I was the day before. Now here is a new month, and I haven't yet thought out how to be more sensible, how to master my impulses and my temper. I am ashamed to be so undisciplined.

If a person continues to see only giants, it means he is still looking at the world through the eyes of a child.

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

When you trust, you are tender and delicate, but when you doubt, you are dangerous and destructive.

When we blindly adopt a religion, a political system, a literary dogma, we become automatons. We cease to grow.

Our love of each other was like two long shadows kissing without hope of reality.

I want to love you wildly. I don't want words, but inarticulate cries, meaningless, from the bottom of my most primitive being, that flow from my belly like honey. A piercing joy, that leaves me empty, conquered, silenced.

The role of a writer is not to say what we can all say, but what we are unable to say.

We're journeying constantly, but there is always a machine and books, and your body is always close to me and the look in your eyes never changes. People are saying we will be miserable, we will regret, but we are happy, we are laughing always, we are singing. We are talking Spanish and French and.

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.

Someone told me the delightful story of the crusader who put a chastity belt on his wife and gave the key to his best friend for safekeeping, in case of his death. He had ridden only a few miles away when his friend, riding hard, caught up with him, saying 'You gave me the wrong key!