Anaïs Nin, from a novel titled "A Spy in the House of Love," published in 1954
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Love never dies of a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness, errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds. It dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings, but never of a natural death.
Anais Nin
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musings on writing
Heaven Is Not Verbose: A Notebook by Vera Pavlova (tr. Steven Seymour), Letters Home by Sylvia Plath, MaddAddam by Margaret Atwood, A Breath of Life by Clarice Lispector, Isak Dinesen quoted by Raymond Carver, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath by Sylvia Plath, from a letter to Max Brod by Franz Kafka, Conversations with Kafka by Gustav Janouch, The Story of the Lost Child by Elena Ferrante, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934
buy me a coffee
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Writing Advice from Anaïs Nin
The following are excerpts from a letter of advice she sent to a 17-year-old aspiring author by the name of Leonard W., whom she had taken under her wing as creative mentor.
I like to live always at the beginnings of life, not at their end. We all lose some of our faith under the oppression of mad leaders, insane history, pathologic cruelties of daily life.
Older people fall into rigid patterns. Curiosity, risk, exploration are forgotten by them. You have not yet discovered that you have a lot to give, and that the more you give the more riches you will find in yourself. It amazed me that you felt that each time you write a story you gave away one of your dreams and you felt the poorer for it.
You must not fear, hold back, count or be a miser with your thoughts and feelings.
It is also true that creation comes from an overflow, so you have to learn to intake, to imbibe, to nourish yourself and not be afraid of fullness. The fullness is like a tidal wave which then carries you, sweeps you into experience and into writing.
Permit yourself to flow and overflow, allow for the rise in temperature, all the expansions and intensifications.
Something is always born of excess: great art was born of great terrors, great loneliness, great inhibitions, instabilities, and it always balances them.
If it seems to you that I move in a world of certitudes, you, par contre, must benefit from the great privilege of youth, which is that you move in a world of mysteries. But both must be ruled by faith.
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I am lonely, yet not everybody will do. I don’t know why, some people fill the gaps but other people emphasize my loneliness.
Anais Nin
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Anaïs Nin, from a letter to Henry Miller written c. August 1932, featured in A Literate Passion
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Love never dies of a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness, errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds. It dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings, but never of a natural death.
Anais Nin
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I am lonely, yet not everybody will do. I don’t know why, some people fill the gaps but other people emphasize my loneliness.
Anais Nin
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I am lonely, yet not everybody will do. I don’t know why, some people fill the gaps but other people emphasize my loneliness.
Anais Nin
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