“Last night I wept. I wept because the process by which I have become woman was painful. I wept because I was no longer a child with a child's blind faith. I wept because my eyes were opened to reality....I wept because I could not believe anymore and I love to believe. I can still love passionately without believing. That means I love humanly. I wept because I have lost my pain and I am not yet accustomed to its absence.”
― Henry and June: From the Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin
― Henry and June: From the Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin
“-Nem nagyon segítenek az emberek!
Azt akarta mondani, hogy az emberek sohasem pontosan olyanok, mint amilyennek elképzeljük őket.”
― Lord of the Flies
Azt akarta mondani, hogy az emberek sohasem pontosan olyanok, mint amilyennek elképzeljük őket.”
― Lord of the Flies
“That all men are equal is a proposition which at ordinary times no sane individual has ever given his assent.”
― Proper Studies
― Proper Studies
“So began their love, the boy happy and amazed, she happy and not surprised at all (nothing happens by chance to girls). It was the love so long awaited by Cosimo and which had now inexplicably arrived, and so lovely that he could not imagine how he had even thought it lovely before. And the thing newest to him was that it was so simple, and the boy at that moment thought it must be like that always.”
― The Baron in the Trees
― The Baron in the Trees
“I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.
Clouds pass and disperse.
Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?
Is it for such I agitate my heart?
I am incapable of more knowledge.
What is this, this face
So murderous in its strangle of branches? -
Its snaky acids kiss.
It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults
That kill, that kill, that kill.”
―
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.
Clouds pass and disperse.
Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?
Is it for such I agitate my heart?
I am incapable of more knowledge.
What is this, this face
So murderous in its strangle of branches? -
Its snaky acids kiss.
It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults
That kill, that kill, that kill.”
―
Rubi’s 2025 Year in Books
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