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“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
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“We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.”
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“Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls.”
― Incest: From "A Journal of Love": The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1932-1934
― Incest: From "A Journal of Love": The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1932-1934
Ryley’s 2025 Year in Books
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