He has, like me, a sense of smell. I let him inhale me, then I slip away. Anais Nin More Quotes by Anais Nin More Quotes From Anais Nin Too late for changes, too late perhaps for explanations and ideological webs, but the love goes on, the love goes on, blind to laws and warnings and even to wisdom and to fears. And whatever that love is, perhaps an illusion of a new love, I want it, I cant resist it, my whole being melts in one kiss, my knowledge melts, my fears melt, my blood dances, my legs open. Anais Nin kissing love blood I had a feeling that Pandora's box contained the mysteries of woman's sensuality, so different from a man's and for which man's language was so inadequate. The language of sex had yet to be invented. The language of the senses was yet to be explored. Anais Nin feelings men sex Everything with me is either worship and passion or pity and understanding. I hate rarely, though when I hate. I hate murderously. Anais Nin passion hate understanding I will not be just a tourist in a world of images. Anais Nin tourists world I gathered poets around me and we all wrote beautiful erotica. As we were condemned to focus only on sensuality, we had violent explosions of poetry. Writing erotica became a road to sainthood rather than to debauchery. Anais Nin focus writing beautiful I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. 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 mind men lying My diary seems to keep me whole. Anais Nin whole journal diaries A man who lives unrelated to other human beings dies. But a man who lives unrelated to himself also dies. Anais Nin dies humans men I want to be a writer who reminds others that these moments exist; I want to prove that there is infinite space, infinite meaning, infinite dimension Anais Nin dimensions space want Anxiety is love's greatest killer, because it is like the stranglehold of the drowning. Anais Nin drowning killers anxiety The true liberation of eroticism lies in accepting the fact that there are a million facets to it, a million forms of eroticism, a million objects of it, situations, atmospheres, and variations. We have, first of all, to dispense with guilt concerning its expansion, then remain open to it's surprises, varied expressions, and mingle it with dreams, fantasies, and emotion for it to attain its highest potency. Anais Nin expression dream lying Anxiety is loves greatest killer. Anais Nin killers anxiety love I told her, "We have both lost ourselves, but sometimes we reveal the most when we are least like ourselves. I am not trying to think any more. I can't think when I am with you. You are like me, wishing for a perfect moment, but nothing too long imagined can be perfect in a worldly way. Neither one of us can say just the right thing. We are overwhelmed. Let us be overwhelmed. It is so lovely, so lovely. I love you June. Anais Nin june love-you thinking But I lie. I embellish. My words are not deep enough. They disguise, they conceal. I will not rest until I have told of my descent into a sensuality which was as dark, as magnificent, as wild, as my moments of mystic creation have been dazzling, ecstatic, exalted. Anais Nin moments dark lying I can’t let you go now. I want to go places with you; obscure little places, just to be able to say: here I came with her. Anais Nin able want littles The writer is the duelist who never fights at the stated hour, who gathers up an insult, like another curious object, a collector's item, spreads it out on his desk later, and then engages in a duel with it verbally. Some people call it weakness. I call it postponement. What is weakness in the man becomes a quality in the writer. For he preserves, collects what will explode later in his work. That is why the writer is the loneliest man in the world; because he lives, fights, dies, is reborn always alone; all his roles are played behind a curtain. In life he is an incongruous figure. Anais Nin fighting men people We did not touch each other. We were both leaning over the abyss. Anais Nin abyss Why do I doubt her? Perhaps she is just very sensitive, and hypersensitive people are false when others doubt them; they waver. And one thinks them insincere. Yet I want to believe her. At the same time it does not seem so very important that she should love me. It is not her role. I am so filled with my love of her. And at the same time I feel that I am dying. Our love would be death. The embrace of imaginings. Anais Nin believe people thinking It is easy to love and there are so many ways to do it. Anais Nin easy way Innocence was gone from all our acts. Our habitual state of rebellion became a serious political crime. Anais Nin political serious gone
