The poet is one who is able to keep the fresh vision of the child alive.
Anais NinRead
I cheat him, I deceive him, yet the world does not sink in sulphur-colored mists. Madness conquers. I can no longer put my mosaics together. I just cry and laugh.
Interpretation
This quote reflects the complexities of human emotions and the chaotic nature of existence.
Anais Nin's quote explores the juxtaposition of deceit and the acceptance of madness in life. It suggests that despite the moral failings of individuals and the disarray they can cause, the world continues to function, shrouded in irrationality and emotions that oscillate between despair and joy. The metaphor of mosaics symbolizes the disintegration of one's sense of order and coherence in a chaotic reality.
In practice
In a discussion about the nature of reality and human experience.
The poet is one who is able to keep the fresh vision of the child alive.
Anxiety is love's greatest killer, because it is like the stranglehold of the drowning.
We celebrate peace. Yet we pay no attention to the ways of curing aggression in human beings. And when one sees in psychoanalysis hostility disappearing as people conquer their fears, one wonders if the cure is not there.
The impetus to grow and live intensely is so powerful in me I cannot resist it. I will work, I will love my husband, but I will fulfill myself.
We have been poisoned by fairy tales.
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.
Personality begins where comparison ends.
I reject the idea that the guy who comes out of Yale and goes to work in the projects in Newark is good, and the guy who goes to work for a white-shoe law firm is bad. We're all mountain rangers. We all have peaks and valleys.
For women... bras, panties, bathing suits, and other stereotypical gear are visual reminders of a commercial, idealized feminine image that our real and diverse female bodies can't possibly fit. Without these visual references, each individual woman's body demands to be accepted on its own terms. We stop being comparatives. We begin to be unique.
I knew I would always want to go on living with myself, however hollow I became, however diseased.
The sacredness, if there is any, is all in yourself and not in the place.
He began to search among the infinite series of impressions which time had laid down, leaf upon leaf, fold upon fold softly, incessantly upon his brain; among scents, sounds; voices, harsh, hollow, sweet; and lights passing, and brooms tapping; and the wash and hush of the sea.
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