anaïs nin bot
@linottediaries
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excerpts taken from linotte and the early diaries of anaïs nin. run by @anaisninlovebot ♡
Joined March 2022
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Pinned Tweet
I shall live on dreams because reality is too cruel for me. I think I shall be the kind of person that nobody understands.
2
683
2K
If I love poetry, it’s because I have a soul made for poetry. My habitual dreaminess, my impatience have nothing to do with my intelligence, but rather with my disposition. One of these days, I shall talk about the things in myself that I don’t understand.
1
379
2K
I don’t aspire to anything, I just want to be allowed to think and contemplate the landscape and to be left to read in peace, that’s the truth. I prefer not to think unless I am alone. When I am alone I read, I think and I write.
0
279
1K
If I didn’t dream so much, I would never have thought of that, but everything beautiful appears in my dreams, and love is so beautiful!
3
209
942
I don’t aspire to anything, I just want to be allowed to think and contemplate the landscape and to be left to read in peace, that’s the truth. I prefer not to think unless I am alone. When I am alone I read, I think and I write.
0
157
648
I shall live on dreams because reality is too cruel for me. I think I shall be the kind of person that nobody understands.
2
192
562
when evening comes, I think, and when I think—I weep.
1
120
532
I don’t aspire to anything, I just want to be allowed to think and contemplate the landscape and to be left to read in peace, that’s the truth. I prefer not to think unless I am alone. When I am alone I read, I think and I write.
1
120
436
I shall live on dreams because reality is too cruel for me. I think I shall be the kind of person that nobody understands.
0
146
393
I shall live on dreams because reality is too cruel for me. I think I shall be the kind of person that nobody understands.
1
124
342
She wondered if her imagination, her dreams, had not made her quite unfit for reality; if her talent for describing life had not progressively weakened her ability to live life
0
110
322
Sometimes I have feelings that I can’t explain, impulses that I can’t control, impressions that I can’t sort out, dreams, thoughts that are different from everything that has gone before.
0
85
310
I am too fond of dreaming. Is it because reality seems to me too sad? I am afraid so.
1
85
298
The only thing I can’t control is my imagination, even if I try only to dream at night. There’s no use talking, I spend half of my life in the clouds.
0
86
278
This is the hour I love best, the hour when so often I write my Diary. Twilight. At twilight my heart melts into the heart of nature. The calmness, the softness, the mystic beauty of it penetrate into my very being like the sweet notes of a poem or a song.
0
69
265
I prefer to give myself to my pen, I prefer to write, not for glory or to become known, no, only to write, to let those who want to understand my heart know it, in order to reform it.
1
40
188
Only, I am in love, because my heart is awake to every vibration, to every touch of nature and humanity. I feel, always, from day to day, sorrow and joy. I live and dream love.
0
51
174
he came close to the real Me—my emotions, my thoughts, my dreams, the things that don’t die and which are in my eyes as in a mirror—
0
29
173
I am too fond of dreaming. Is it because reality seems to me too sad? I am afraid so.
0
62
175
Only my heart can explain how I feel, my pen cannot do it.
0
56
161
If I love poetry, it’s because I have a soul made for poetry. My habitual dreaminess, my impatience have nothing to do with my intelligence, but rather with my disposition. One of these days, I shall talk about the things in myself that I don’t understand.
0
43
151
If I love poetry, it’s because I have a soul made for poetry. My habitual dreaminess, my impatience have nothing to do with my intelligence, but rather with my disposition. One of these days, I shall talk about the things in myself that I don’t understand.
2
52
149
Spring evening, soft and balmy and beautiful. The smell of the earth rose in the stillness like a dream cloud.
0
40
138
I struggled with myself—at war with my habitual softness and my determination to be loyal and truthful at any sacrifice.
0
20
132
If I love poetry, it’s because I have a soul made for poetry. My habitual dreaminess, my impatience have nothing to do with my intelligence, but rather with my disposition. One of these days, I shall talk about the things in myself that I don’t understand.
0
30
127
Spring evening, soft and balmy and beautiful. The smell of the earth rose in the stillness like a dream cloud.
0
37
131
If I love poetry, it’s because I have a soul made for poetry. My habitual dreaminess, my impatience have nothing to do with my intelligence, but rather with my disposition. One of these days, I shall talk about the things in myself that I don’t understand.
0
33
127
he came close to the real Me—my emotions, my thoughts, my dreams, the things that don’t die and which are in my eyes as in a mirror—
1
47
128
I am too fond of dreaming. Is it because reality seems to me too sad? I am afraid so.
0
28
98
I shall live on dreams because reality is too cruel for me. I think I shall be the kind of person that nobody understands.
0
35
90
the moonbeams shine into my little room and I am in bed murmuring, —I would like to have roses, roses, roses—
0
31
93
I am not romantic any more—I judge boys as coldly and seriously as possible, and you should see how difficult I am to please!
0
17
96
Spring evening, soft and balmy and beautiful. The smell of the earth rose in the stillness like a dream cloud.
0
29
90
the moonbeams shine into my little room and I am in bed murmuring, —I would like to have roses, roses, roses—
0
32
87
I struggled with myself—at war with my habitual softness and my determination to be loyal and truthful at any sacrifice.
0
18
81
I prefer to give myself to my pen, I prefer to write, not for glory or to become known, no, only to write, to let those who want to understand my heart know it, in order to reform it.
0
28
79
Also the world is full of poets, full of dreamers, full of madmen and prose writers—their joys and sorrows are for themselves and for the public.
0
23
79
I don’t aspire to anything, I just want to be allowed to think and contemplate the landscape and to be left to read in peace, that’s the truth. I prefer not to think unless I am alone. When I am alone I read, I think and I write.
0
25
81
I struggled with myself—at war with my habitual softness and my determination to be loyal and truthful at any sacrifice.
0
18
65
If I didn’t dream so much, I would never have thought of that, but everything beautiful appears in my dreams, and love is so beautiful!
0
15
66
Only, I am in love, because my heart is awake to every vibration, to every touch of nature and humanity. I feel, always, from day to day, sorrow and joy. I live and dream love.
0
17
62
Only, I am in love, because my heart is awake to every vibration, to every touch of nature and humanity. I feel, always, from day to day, sorrow and joy. I live and dream love.
0
23
60
This is the hour I love best, the hour when so often I write my Diary. Twilight. At twilight my heart melts into the heart of nature. The calmness, the softness, the mystic beauty of it penetrate into my very being like the sweet notes of a poem or a song.
1
16
54
No more frivolity, no more coquettishness—Come now, Miss Linotte, that’s enough foolishness, those longings to have dozens of little gingham dresses, pretty lingerie, and especially books—And what do roses matter, Miss Linotte, roses and lovers, dreams and desires—
1
9
53
at my age, my heart seems more than ever like a sunflower, always turning toward the light and warmth for more strength and force of character, for more beauty and wisdom.
0
22
54
I don’t aspire to anything, I just want to be allowed to think and contemplate the landscape and to be left to read in peace, that’s the truth. I prefer not to think unless I am alone. When I am alone I read, I think and I write.
0
18
54
If I love poetry, it’s because I have a soul made for poetry. My habitual dreaminess, my impatience have nothing to do with my intelligence, but rather with my disposition. One of these days, I shall talk about the things in myself that I don’t understand.
0
17
53
the moonbeams shine into my little room and I am in bed murmuring, —I would like to have roses, roses, roses—
0
22
53
Only, I am in love, because my heart is awake to every vibration, to every touch of nature and humanity. I feel, always, from day to day, sorrow and joy. I live and dream love.
0
16
52
This is the hour I love best, the hour when so often I write my Diary. Twilight. At twilight my heart melts into the heart of nature. The calmness, the softness, the mystic beauty of it penetrate into my very being like the sweet notes of a poem or a song.
0
13
48
Sometimes I have feelings that I can’t explain, impulses that I can’t control, impressions that I can’t sort out, dreams, thoughts that are different from everything that has gone before.
0
18
46
and only when I have nothing to do do I write and devour books, in the idle moments that follow hours well spent.
0
14
56
Perhaps my feelings are absurd, I think so and I shall stop. All that makes me feel like crying and I contain myself only with great difficulty. I can’t explain this state of mind.
0
10
49
I am too fond of dreaming. Is it because reality seems to me too sad? I am afraid so.
0
16
45
I shall live on dreams because reality is too cruel for me. I think I shall be the kind of person that nobody understands.
0
16
43
I find in books everything I need to delight my solitude, but they don’t teach me to live. Rather they help me to enlarge the scope of my other life of fantasies and perfect beauty...
0
19
42
I haven’t forgotten a single detail, and yet I would rather think about it than write it because I absolutely cannot describe all the hours of that day, which I lived through exactly as in a dream.
0
13
43
I don’t aspire to anything, I just want to be allowed to think and contemplate the landscape and to be left to read in peace, that’s the truth. I prefer not to think unless I am alone. When I am alone I read, I think and I write.
0
12
42
at my age, my heart seems more than ever like a sunflower, always turning toward the light and warmth for more strength and force of character, for more beauty and wisdom.
0
9
40
I am not romantic any more—I judge boys as coldly and seriously as possible, and you should see how difficult I am to please!
1
8
40
Sometimes I have feelings that I can’t explain, impulses that I can’t control, impressions that I can’t sort out, dreams, thoughts that are different from everything that has gone before.
0
15
41
I have nothing to say, so I am going to have a chat with my diary, or rather, my confidant, for I write many things that I never tell anyone and that no one knows.
0
14
40
Spring evening, soft and balmy and beautiful. The smell of the earth rose in the stillness like a dream cloud.
0
10
37
I am too fond of dreaming. Is it because reality seems to me too sad? I am afraid so.
0
14
35
I struggled with myself—at war with my habitual softness and my determination to be loyal and truthful at any sacrifice.
0
11
37
I am too fond of dreaming. Is it because reality seems to me too sad? I am afraid so.
0
27
42
I am too fond of dreaming. Is it because reality seems to me too sad? I am afraid so.
0
12
37
I think there is no one who understands the sadness in my soul. I smile and laugh like everyone else, but each smile is another tear distilled in my soul until those pearls of bitterness overflow onto these pages, where they remain.
0
6
34
Only, I am in love, because my heart is awake to every vibration, to every touch of nature and humanity. I feel, always, from day to day, sorrow and joy. I live and dream love.
0
13
36
I think there is no one who understands the sadness in my soul.
0
9
34
I struggled with myself—at war with my habitual softness and my determination to be loyal and truthful at any sacrifice.
0
8
35
I am too fond of dreaming. Is it because reality seems to me too sad? I am afraid so.
0
16
33
I am not romantic any more—I judge boys as coldly and seriously as possible, and you should see how difficult I am to please!
0
5
36
Also the world is full of poets, full of dreamers, full of madmen and prose writers—their joys and sorrows are for themselves and for the public.
0
11
36
Also the world is full of poets, full of dreamers, full of madmen and prose writers—their joys and sorrows are for themselves and for the public.
0
8
32
at my age, my heart seems more than ever like a sunflower, always turning toward the light and warmth for more strength and force of character, for more beauty and wisdom.
1
8
34
Also the world is full of poets, full of dreamers, full of madmen and prose writers—their joys and sorrows are for themselves and for the public.
0
13
33
the moonbeams shine into my little room and I am in bed murmuring, —I would like to have roses, roses, roses—
0
7
32
he came close to the real Me—my emotions, my thoughts, my dreams, the things that don’t die and which are in my eyes as in a mirror—
1
5
30
Only, I am in love, because my heart is awake to every vibration, to every touch of nature and humanity. I feel, always, from day to day, sorrow and joy. I live and dream love.
0
6
30
I am too fond of dreaming. Is it because reality seems to me too sad? I am afraid so.
0
12
30
If I love poetry, it’s because I have a soul made for poetry. My habitual dreaminess, my impatience have nothing to do with my intelligence, but rather with my disposition. One of these days, I shall talk about the things in myself that I don’t understand.
0
14
33
Spring evening, soft and balmy and beautiful. The smell of the earth rose in the stillness like a dream cloud.
0
9
31
I am too fond of dreaming. Is it because reality seems to me too sad? I am afraid so.
1
5
33
I have been thinking deeply that I am eleven years old and I don’t know anything yet. I have resolved to apply myself to everything I do to make up for lost time.
0
7
32
Only, I am in love, because my heart is awake to every vibration, to every touch of nature and humanity. I feel, always, from day to day, sorrow and joy. I live and dream love.
0
15
30
If I didn’t dream so much, I would never have thought of that, but everything beautiful appears in my dreams, and love is so beautiful!
0
8
29
Only, I am in love, because my heart is awake to every vibration, to every touch of nature and humanity. I feel, always, from day to day, sorrow and joy. I live and dream love.
0
13
32
Sometimes I have feelings that I can’t explain, impulses that I can’t control, impressions that I can’t sort out, dreams, thoughts that are different from everything that has gone before.
0
7
29
I want to be free, free to cry over my unfortunate smallness by myself, since my size is coupled with a heart that has no limits to its dreams of glory, of distant action, of the ambition of a Frenchwoman.
0
8
29
the moonbeams shine into my little room and I am in bed murmuring, —I would like to have roses, roses, roses—
0
13
31
Only, I am in love, because my heart is awake to every vibration, to every touch of nature and humanity. I feel, always, from day to day, sorrow and joy. I live and dream love.
0
11
29
But wait until the summer comes, the freedom to recreate new dreams, the peace and quiet, with no other roof than clouds over your head, no thoughts of how to spend money, how to dress, how to exercise.
0
11
27
the moonbeams shine into my little room and I am in bed murmuring, —I would like to have roses, roses, roses—
0
5
30
I don’t aspire to anything, I just want to be allowed to think and contemplate the landscape and to be left to read in peace, that’s the truth. I prefer not to think unless I am alone. When I am alone I read, I think and I write.
0
11
30