Meanwhile in my head, I'm undergoing open-heart surgery. - Anne Sexton.
201"You ache with it all; and the more mysterious it is, the more you ache." - Fyodor Dostoevsky, from Notes From The Underground
315"- You’re very poetic.
- No, just sad." - José Saramago from Blindness
565"Talk to me about sadness. I talk about it too much in my own head but I never mind others talking about it either; I occasionally feel like I tremendously need others to talk about it as well." - Anne Sexton, from A Self-Portrait In Letters
220"Don’t make empty gestures. I want plain things, warm things. I’m so tired of your lack of everything thoughtful, wise about you. You act like a child, a child that just asks and asks and asks and never thinks and sucks one to death, and I’m sitting here just crying because it’s so hopeless to ever expect you to be otherwise. Above all, I am sad because it is always the same. Everything hopelessly the same. And rebellion. And a desire to run from it all to some real human love. At the bottom it’s because it’s only yourself that counts, your friends, your mood, your impulses…but all like a child’s, irresponsible, meaningless, without any depths." - Anaïs Nin, from a letter to Henry Miller dated October 1934
304"I want to leave, to go somewhere where I should be really in my place, where I would fit in…but my place is nowhere; I am unwanted." - Jean-Paul Sartre, fromNausea
882"I am unattached; My heart is very quiet. The world is a curtain." - Sylvia Plath, from the draft of Poppies In July
136"Since my earliest childhood a barb of sorrow has lodged in my heart. As long as it stays I am ironic — if it is pulled out I shall die." - Søren Kierkegaard, from Journals
452"I’m in pain because the day is ending and somehow I am never healing." - Anne Sexton, from A Self-Portrait In Letters
106"Everything seems to be only a dream and it is as though I were letting the dream go on talking at random." - Franz Kafka, from The Blue Octavo Notebooks (1917-1919)
245"The soul was not
cured;
It was as full
as a clothes closet
of dresses
that did not
fit." - Anne Sexton, from The Complete Poems
333"I cannot be tossed about, or float gently, or mix with other people." - Virginia Woolf, from The Waves
978"Pitch-black winter nights live in my bones." - Friedrich Nietzsche, from Selected Letters
