My ideas usually come not at my desk writing but in the midst of living.

Anais Nin

Anais Nin

Profession: Author
Nationality: French

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She fell in love with an extinct volcano.

She had acquired some of his gypsy ways, some of his nonchalance, his bohemian indiscipline. She had swung with him into the disorders of strewn clothes, spilled cigarette ashes, slipping into bed all dressed, falling asleep thus, indolence, timelessness...A region of chaos and moonlight. She liked it there.

I was stirred only like a leaf in the wind, that is all. . .

No privacy left. No manners.

Strings of chili hung from the rafters, chili to wake them from their dreams, dreams born of scents and rhythms, and the warmth that fell from the sky like the fleeciest blanket.

Stories do not end.

Strange, isn't it, that no chemical will give a human being the iridescence that illusions have given them? Give me your hat.

That night Fay became a woman, making a secret of her pain, intent on saving her happiness with Albert, on showing wisdom and subtlety.

His life rushes onward in such torrential rhythm that...only angels and devils can catch the tempo of it.

When others asked the truth of me, I was convinced it was not the truth they wanted, but an illusion they could bear to live with.

Patients weep when they discover they are their own victimizers and not the victim of others. They weep when they discover they are responsible for their own suffering.

Luxury is not a necessity to me, but beautiful and good things are.

Nature forms us for ourselves, not for others; to be, not to seem.

But we were lonely. we had nobody to play with. The gay child, the inventive child, the spirited and wild child, was lonely.