I feel numb and dumb, and unable to lay hands on any words.
“
| — | From The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via larmoyante) |
April 27. Incapable of living with people, of speaking. Complete immersion in myself, thinking of myself. Apathetic, witless, fearful. I have nothing to say to anyone - never.
“
| — | Diaries of Franz Kafka by Franz Kafka (via journalofanobody) |
This tremendous world I have inside of me. How to free myself, and this world, without tearing myself to pieces… And rather tear myself to a thousand pieces than be buried with this world within me.
“
| — | From The Diaries of Franz Kafka (via bonnie-trash) |
I haven’t this “reality” gift. I insubstantise, wilfully to some extent, distrusting reality - its cheapness.
“
| — | From Diary Entry 19 June 1923 by Virginia Woolf (via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf) |
I have to keep racing to avoid my past catching up with me and strangling me. I have to live very fast, place many people and incidents between my past and me, because it is still a burden and a ghost.
“
| — | From The Diary of Anais Nin 1934-1939 by Anais Nin |
Limitations of life. Doors closing as one walks forward. Curtains of silence. Inertia. Obstacles like walls. Then to discover that the limitation is within oneself. A malformation, wanting the impossible. In all of them the imagination is the trap. Evasion is possible by renunciation of life and creation of art. Or by accepting limitations. I was walking along Broadway thinking: in my books I can ordain, rule, walk, laugh, shout, accuse, act in any way I please. I am creator and king. The same will applied to life may destroy me. Many creators, romantics, neurotics, are tragic figures in life. They are absolutists. They tire of struggling against the limitations of life. In art there are none.
“
| — | From The Diary of Anais Nin 1934-1939 by Anais Nin |
