#a literate passion

[sfsolstice]

Anaïs Nin, in a letter to Henry Miller, d. March 9, 1932, from A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller, 1932-1953

[strykerlancer]

— Henry Miller, from a letter to Anais Nin, featured in A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller.

[Text ID: Give me a few days of peace in your arms-I need it terribly. I'm ragged, worn, exhausted. After that I can face the world.]

[derangedrhythms]

To stay with you for one night I would throw away my whole life, sacrifice a hundred persons, […] be capable of anything. 

Anaïs Nin, from ‘A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller 1932-1953’

[petaltexturedskies]

You see I'm still delicate. I'm so delicate now that I'm almost fragile.

Henry Miller, in a letter to Anaïs Nin dated 29 July 1932 featured in A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller, 1932-1953

[asoftepiloguemylove]

hello! your webweaves are beautiful. may i ask for a webweave about "even the moments that were boring, i wanna do it all again" tysm!

Philip Pullman The Amber Spyglass / Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) dir. Dan Kwan & Daniel Scheinert / Franz Kafka The Castle / James Joyce Exiles: A Play In Three Acts / Keaton St. James Rural Boys Watch the Apocalypse / Young Royals (2021-) cr. Lisa Ambjörn, Lars Beckung, Camilla Holter / Anaïs Nin A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller, 1932-1953 / Trista Mateer Honeybee

[theladyonfire]

Dear Memory by Victoria Chang

[shehzadi]

the travelling man (alternatively, on being the one who leaves)

franz kafka “the diaries of franz kafka” // henry miller “a literate passion: letters of anaïs nin and henry miller” // loverboy “turn me loose” // @heavensghost // alejandra pizarnik “extracting the stone of madness” trans. yvette siegert // andrés cerpa “the vault” // mikko harvey “for m” // led zeppelin “baby i’m gonna leave you” // margarita karapanou “rien ne va plus” // clarice lispector “the departure of the train” trans. katarina dodson // bell hooks “the will to change”

[fetishrap]

i want what anaïs nin and henry miller had

[sfsolstice]

Anaïs Nin, in a letter to Henry Miller, d. March 26, 1932, from A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller, 1932-1953

[strykerlancer]

“Here I am back and still smouldering with passion, like wine smoking. Not a passion any longer for flesh, but a complete hunger for you, a devouring hunger.”

— Henry Miller, from “A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller, 1932-1953.”

[derangedrhythms]

Aware of you, chaotically.

Anaïs Nin, from ‘A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller 1932-1953′

[lolaveda]

You arouse in me such a mixture of feelings. I don't know how to approach you. Only come to me—get closer and closer to me. It will be beautiful, I promise you. I like so much your frankness—a humility almost. I could never hurt that. I had a thought tonight that it was to a woman like you I should have been married. Or, is it that love, in the beginning, always inspires such thoughts? I don't have a fear that you will want to hurt me. I see that you have a strength, too—of a different order, more elusive. No, you won't break. I talked a lot of nonsense—about your frailty. I have been a little embarrassed always. But less so the last time. It will all disappear. You have such a delicious sense of humor—I adore that in you. I want always to see you laughing. It belongs to you. I have been thinking of places we ought to go together—little, obscure places, here and there in Paris. Just to say—here I went with Anaïs—here we ate, or danced, or got drunk together. Ah, to see you really drunk sometime—that would be a treat! I am almost afraid to suggest it—but, Anaïs, when I think of how you press against me, how eagerly you open your legs and how wet you are, God, it drives me mad to think what you would be like when everything falls away. Yesterday, going to the police, waiting in line here and there, I thought of you, of your pressing your legs against me standing up, of the room tottering, of falling on you in darkness and knowing nothing. And I shivered and groaned with delight. I wanted to run and telephone you—and then it was my turn to march to the window. I am thinking that if the weekend must pass without seeing you it will be unbearable. If this letter reaches you on Saturday—if I get up in time—or can phone you—tell me whether we can meet, and if needs be I can come to Louveciennes Sunday—anything, but I must see you, be near you. But act, Anaïs—don't be afraid to treat me coolly. It will be enough to stand near you, to look at you admiringly. Don't venture too much. Just let me be there—if possible, arrange so that we can all go into Paris together. Oh, I don't care, don't arrange anything. Don't do anything that will hurt you, compromise you. I love you, that's all.

Henry Miller in a letter to Anaïs Nin, Clichy, July 26, 1932

[royalthorned]

There are passages that seem to defy all explanation, which hover on the border of hallucination, madness, utter chaos. There are some which are so cruel and revoltingly and they seem inhuman- they are not thoughts or feelings any longer, but the raw essence of pain and malice. The whole thing is like a bloody emission, the orgasm of a monster

Henry Miller - A Literate Passion

[asoftepiloguemylove]

Anaïs Nin A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller, 1932-1953 / Young Royals (2021-) cr. Lisa Ambjörn, Lars Beckung, Camilla Holter

[charcoallip]

Heart beat

Last night as we lay still in the third quarter of the night, she rustled though the sheets and whispered in my ear "do you find it odd that we're here lying naked, yet I don't have a clue about what your heart feels like"

I put out my half aged cigarette and looked at her as I ran my fingers through her hair.

She took a moment , staring at me, as if one was waiting for an answer.

I smirked and looked outside the bedroom window all while playing with her ear lobe

It took a few minutes for her to give up and she put her head on my chest and drifted off to sleep. As if..

One was desperately trying to get hold of a heartbeat.

I wonder if she heard any.

Should I ask?

Then again, I also seem to enjoy not knowing

[theladyonfire]

The strange rain spills into everything, I fear the slow consumption. How it turns everything green, how it blooms and wilts life. I have been looking at the moss for too long, fearing and wondering how the air has changed. How long till I turn into something else?