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Meanwhile in my head, I'm undergoing open-heart surgery - Anne Sexton
228"She was a storehouse of self-deceptions, but she was also perspicacious. Something in her chilled him; her suspiciousness, her grudges, her deceitfulness, the hostile solitude in which she took refuge. But perhaps if he had loved her more, she would have become more open, more expansive, more agreeable. It was a vicious circle: love can’t be served up to order, nor can confidence. Neither one could come first." - Simone de Beauvoir, from The Mandarins
337"I don’t know if I’ll ever stop loving you; but I do know that all my life you’ll be in my heart." - Simone de Beauvoir, from The Mandarins
307"Maybe this is the beginning of madness
Maybe it’s your conscience…" - Adrienne Rich, from Later Poems Selected And New: 1971 - 2012
257"I wanted to go somewhere
the brain had not yet gone
I wanted not to be
there so alone." - Adrienne Rich, from Later Poems Selected And New: 1971 - 2012
308"I believed I was loved, I believed I loved,
who did this to us?" - Adrienne Rich, from Later Poems Selected And New: 1971 - 2012
6480"My heart talks about nothing but you." - Albert Camus, from The Just
553"You’ll never lose me through any fault of mine." - Simone de Beauvoir, from The Mandarins
302"No one has ever loved you like I love you." - Albert Camus, from The Just
379"It’s easy, it’s so much easier to die of your contradictions than to live with them." - Albert Camus, from The Just
1545"That’s why I like you so much. Your heart isn’t dead." - Albert Camus, from The Just
329"Deep feelings always mean more than they are conscious of saying. Great feelings take with them their own universe, splendid or abject.They light up with their passion an exclusive world in which they recognize their climate." - Albert Camus, from Essays
244"The heart remains unchanged under it all." - W.B. Yeats, from The Hour Glass
338"When one gets quiet; then something wakes up inside one, something happy and quiet like the stars—" - W.B. Yeats, from The Hour Glass
328"Vague memories, nothing but memories." - W.B. Yeats, from Collected Poems
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