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…because the quietest people like me are those who do the most unexpected and violent things. I love you too much, Henry, and that is something to be feared, you know. I have come too close to you.
Anaïs Nin, from a letter to Henry Miller featured in A Literate Passion: Letters Of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller (1932 - 1953)
I know it’s impossible to explain this to you. I carry this terrible aching hell in my heart.
Charles Bukowski, from a letter to Louise Webb featured in Screams From The Balcony: Selected Letters 1960 - 1970
(via apathetic-x)
(via apathetic-x)
How winter fills my soul.
Sylvia Plath, from “Three Women” featured in The Collected Poems (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)
I feel you
in all the words
I’ll never say
spike in the brain,
syllables swallowed
a gulp I can’t help
but hear me now
You’ve been featured
in my dreams
for so long
it’s no longer
a longing and
more a subconscious
love affair between
you and all the
things I’ll never know
to be.
I suffer because of myself. It is my own soul all the time that is bothering me.
I feel I’ve lived too long; and God knows where this will end.
Martha Gellhorn, from a letter to Lucy Moorehead featured in Selected Letters
(via violentwavesofemotion)
(via violentwavesofemotion)
There are times when nobody can help you, not even the one you love. You have to be alone. You have to be ill, and wallow in your illness. Your soul needs it.
Henry Miller, from a letter to Anaïs Nin featured in A Literate Passion: Letters Of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller (1932 - 1953)
I am sitting on my bed. A storm is coming, appropriately. A storm is always appropriate.
Franz Kafka, from a diary entry written c. December 1919, featured in Diaries, 1910-1923
(via violentwavesofemotion)
(via violentwavesofemotion)
On this warm July afternoon you are the one my thoughts wander to.
Anne Sexton, from a letter to Brian Sweeney featured in A Self-Portrait in Letters (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)
The soul has bandaged moments, true, difficult to express, but there are points of contact, vehement, aflame, effulgent beyond words, that compel our entire being. That was her gamble. Like a magician she caught the shadowy apparitions of her brain and tossed them in startlingly picturesqueness…
Susan Gilbert, describing Emily Dickinson, featured White Heat: The Friendship of Emily Dickinson and Thomas Wentworth Higginson
(via violentwavesofemotion)
(via violentwavesofemotion)