Too horrid to kill for you Too sordid to die with you Unstable as always, come down Everything else is just dust and sound
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The urge to ignore every responsibility I might have for the sole purpose of finishing a book.
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and now there is silence.
August 1, 1916 Letters to Felice by Franz Kafka First published : 1973
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It is 11:30 p.m. on the evening of August first, and I am very tired.
The unabridged journals of Sylvia Plath, 1950-1962
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Louise Glück, From Descending Figure; “Portland, 1968”
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‘evening reading’ - georg vilhelm paulli (1884)
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big beautiful world full of books i haven’t read
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Simone de Beauvoir, from a letter to Élisabeth Lacoin written in June 1929
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