Quotes added on Wednesday, December 21 2016

Even one day lost in misery is a great loss, for the day will never come back again. You lose 24 hours of happiness, joy & bliss. Live each day in happiness.
What good is crying, you ask? I'll tell you what. It doesn't fix the problem. You surprised, I knew that? But what does it do? -- It gives me something to do while I'm upset. It's a release of pent up emotions. & a very human response to any given amount of sadness. So that's the use of crying. It doesn't put food on the table, or fill the piggy bank. But it sure does help bring some of my sanity back.
She was like spring...but not in the flowery way. In the sense that she was sun one second then dreadfully sad the next day. Tears filling her eyes, filling up the lakes. She bloomed every once in a while, but it was never enough. Spring was always a confusing time. But I just wish she knew what she wanted, before summer took her away on that dreadfully sad day.
wine > attention from boys
honestly, i would stay up all night with you even if we don’t say a word.

Usually I could take the blame, but not this time.

I am HAPPY,I'm really happy that I finally admit it the truth. Now I feel relieved!!!



I was born without a skin. I dreamed once that I stood naked in a garden and that it was carefully and neatly peeled, like a fruit. Not an inch of skin left on my body. It was all gently pulled off, all of it, and then I was told to walk, to live, to run. I walked slowly at first, and the garden was very soft, and I felt the softness of the garden so acutely, not on the surface of my body, but all through it, the soft warm air and the perfumes penetrated me like needles through every open bleeding pore. All the pores open and breathing the softness, the warmth, and the smells. The whole body invaded, penetrated, responding, every tiny cell and pore active and breathing and trembling and enjoying. I shrieked with pain. I ran. And as I ran the wind lashed me, and then the voices of people like whips on me. Being touched! Do you know what it is to be touched by a human being!
     — Anaïs Nin, House of Incest
 

maybe I do like you.



Man can never know the loneliness a woman knows. Man lies in the woman's womb only to gather strength, he nourishes himself from this fusion, and then he rises and goes into the world, into his work, into battle, into art. He is not lonely. He is busy. The memory of the swim in amniotic fluid gives him energy, completion. Woman may be busy too, but she feels empty. Sensuality for her is not only a wave of pleasure in which she is bathed, and a charge of electric joy at contact with another. When man lies in her womb, she is fulfilled, each act of love a taking of man within her, an act of birth and rebirth, of child rearing and man bearing. Man lies in her womb and is reborn each time anew with a desire to act, to be. But for woman, the climax is not in the birth, but in the moment man rests inside of her.
     — Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934
 

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