A trite word is an overused word which has lost its identity like an old coat in a second-hand shop. The familiar… — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
I looked upon a clock to find the truth. The hours were passing like ivory chess figures, striking piano notes, and the… — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
Travel is seeking the lost paradise. It is the supreme illusion of love. — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
I told her, "We have both lost ourselves, but sometimes we reveal the most when we are least like ourselves. I am… — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
Our culture made a virtue of living only as extroverts. We discouraged the inner journey, the quest for a center. So we… — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
The man who was once starved may revenge himself upon the world not by stealing just once, or by stealing only what… — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
Last night I wept. I wept because the process by which I have become woman was painful. I wept because I was… — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
I sat there for three hours and did not feel the time or the boredom of our talk and its foolish disconnection.… — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
She had lost herself somewhere along the frontier between her inventions, her stories, her fantasies and her true self. The boundaries had… — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
“…For love it is never the same. What goes on inside is never the same just like this music which changes every instant. For… — Anaïs Nin Copy Share Image
Jazz is the music of the body. The breath comes through brass. It is the body's breath, and the strings' wails and moans are… — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
I have so strong a sense of creation, of tomorrow, that I cannot get drunk, knowing I will be less alive, less well, less… — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
We don't have a language for the senses. Feelings are images, sensations are like musical sounds. — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
Strange, isn't it, that no chemical will give a human being the iridescence that illusions have given them? Give me your hat. — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
The personal, if it is deep enough, becomes universal, mythical, symbolic. — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
Introspection is a devouring monster. You have to feed it with much material, much experience, many people, many places, many loves, many creations, and… — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
In each studio there is a human being dressed in the full regalia of his myth fearing to expore a vulnerable opening, spreading not… — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
I don't mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
“Laughter and tears are not separate experiences, with intervals of rest: they rush out together and it is like walking with a sword between… — Anaïs Nin Copy Share Image
The basis of insincerity is the idealized image we hold of ourselves and wish to impose on others. — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
