The Diaries of Anais Nin The Early Diary of Anais Nin: Volume One ("Linotte") 1914-1920 published

by Harcourt Brace Hope you enjoy reading these excerpts from Linotte. UPDATED JUNE 13TH 2000. NEW EXCERPTS THROUGHOUT EACH YEAR!!!!! Anais Nin Club Anais Nin BOOK OF THE MONTH reading for JUNE/JULY;LINOTTE

August 11, 1914.~~~"Impressions of Arrival In New York" We were all dressed and on deck. It was 2 o'clock and one could vaguely see a city, but very far away. The sea was gray and heavy. How different from the beautiful sea of Spain! I was anxious to arrive, but I was sad. I felt a chill around my heart and I was seeing things all wrong. Suddenly we were wrapped in a thick fog. A torrential rain began to fall, thunder rumbled, lightning flashes lit the heavy black sky. The people promptly took refuge in the lounge. None of the Spanish passengers had ever seen weather like that, so the frightened women wept,the men prayed in low tones. We were not afraid. Maman had seen many storms and her calmness reassured us. We were the first to go back up on the wet deck. But the fog continued and we waited. It was 4 o'clock when the ship began to move again, slowly, as though she approached the great city with fear. Now, leaning on the railing, I couldn't hear anything. My eyes were fixed on the lights that drew closer, I saw the tall buildings, I heard the whistling of the engine, I saw a great deal of movement. Huge buildings went by in front of me. I hated those buildings in advance because they hid what I love most-flowers, birds, fields, liberty. Maman came up to me and took me for a walk, whispering in my ear the wonderful things I was going to see. But although I admire New York for its progress, I hate it, I find it superficial. I saw it as an ugly prison. Maman was still walking, but seeing that I wasn't paying the slightest attention, she didn't talk to me anymore, but her eyes looked worried. my head felt heavy, my heart seemed full enough to burst, I felt sad and unhappy. I envy those who never leave their native land. I wanted to cry my eyes out. Maman went away again and again I leaned on the railing and filled my lungs with the pure evening air. It was growing dark, we were arriving, and I had to come out of my sad reverie. I cast a last glance around me at this last bit of Spain, which seemed to have wanted to accompany me this far, to remind me of my promise that I would return. Inside myself I answered, Oh, yes, I shall return to Spain. Maman led me away and i set foot on land. The earth was burning hot. I woke up. People were running, shouting and waving. I found myself on a large quay. I kissed Godmother, Rafael, Carlos, and Coquito, who had come to meet us. Uncle Gilbert arrived soon after. They desided that Thorvald and I would spend the night at Aunt Antolina's and the next day we would rejoin Maman and Joaquinito, who were going to Aunt Eldemira's. The night went quite well. Before going to bed, I resigned myself to not feeling sad about New York, to keep still and keep my thoughts against this country to myself. Only I am indiscreet and I have told my diary everything. You wont say anything, will you, if I tell you that I hate New York and that I find it too big, too superficial, everything goes too fast. It is just hell. Linotte: 1914-1920

August 1. proudly ascends the throne of the sun. He opened another big wardrobe where we could see a magnificent minitiare altar. everything. Then he led us farther on to where the wall was entirely made up of holes that were used as tombs. but for the rest of the day I will observe silence. his voice resounding loudly amid those gigantic walls. In front of it. I know. but work on my shawl. I repeat. August 2 1914 It is evening. who opened a wardrobe and took out a huge bunch of keys. Madam. Maman then remarked. the stars come out. they were not French. Not seek out conversation. and I am not serious enough. The priest explained that this room was dug twelve feet below the sea. Last night I said to myself: tomorrow I will be good. no. in which we could admire a magnificent gold chalice set with pearls and with a big emerald in the center. which now rules the heavens." It's true. but all those ideas flew away when maman called me. a very old bible. 1914 I am eleven years old. I greet you. but her people. envious. Next he led us into the wall. at the back a 200-year old crucifix dominated the cave."Here you are able to preserve these things because the churches have never been pillaged. Good? I wasn't any better than I was the day before. Finally the sun disappears altogether and then the moon. A Frenchman could never have had a dishonorable idea like that of driving out priests and nuns who only did good. it became very dark. Today the day is nearly over and it isn't much. I hereby resolve that with God's help I will be more reasonable. The priest locked the wardrobe carefully and opened another. one still sees the setting sun showing itself humbly behind the moon. which must be finished at least by day after tomorrow. On the right. What wealth! After closing that wardrobe. After crossing several galleries supported by beams and columns carved Latin scripture. he opened another where we admired the hilt of a sword that had belonged to a king of Spain. Great beams everywhere in every nook and cranny of the altar. I am ashamed to be so undisciplined. Not talk.July 29 1914 The Cathedral The first thing I saw was a large door supporting two life-size angels on two columns. A shudder chilled my blood. It was impressive and I felt as though I were in an ancient castle. who really were not the French people but proud. evil-minded. The priest guided us toward a little staircase which we climbed. a marvel. The cross was made of pearl mixed with gold thread. selfish people who joined together under the name of the French people. He spoke a word to another preist. her nuns. threw out everything. a soft breeze caresses my meditation. opened a large door to a kind of sacristy. but very big. the priest led us down a dark little staircase. very beautiful. how to master my impulses and my temper. He showed us a Virgin sculpted out of a single block of stone. A priest guided us through the church. the stars seem to say. 18 inches high. my visions The moon shines. on an antique table built entirely of oak was a huge book. when I had lagged a little behind. I blush to think of it. Now here is a new month. but in France all the relics were burned and looted. I don't mean France. and found ourselves in something like a walled dungeon. October 16 1914 . At one moment. and I haven't yet thought out how to be more sensible. not without risk of breaking our necks. shining still more brightly. For the first time France committed an act of which I shall always be ashamed. No. The priest showed us three graves of preists and a bishop. I have been lost in contemplation and here is all my achievement: The moon. We went down. but answer politely. No. all in gold. The gilded silver altar was very large indeed. my poor country expelled her priests.

1915 January 25 1915 Here I am once more. October 18 1914 How happy I am! I took Communion this morning and I have Jesus in my heart. I would like to be a man so that I could bear arms. prayed again. I write to Papa and always ask him to come. which is always gray. too. I shall stop for now. Oh. rather than recieving the body of Christ. Last night I dreamed that I recieved a letter from Papa in which he said: I am coming. I would like to hug him for real. if it were true! What happiness. the one I adore. suddenly appear. Oh. I think that here I shall never have occasion to write poetry because everywhere all one sees are busy people. I send you a big hug. I woke up crying. saving France. I don't like the piano. I had lunch. vive Joan of Arc who gave Anais her strength. If only it were true. no more about that. This morning at Communion I saw a father and a mother with a little girl of about six. I who am so small. I am tired of saying to Papa. that I was Joan of Arc and that she sang. I rushed into the arms that were stretched out toward me. I a girl. I keep hoping and perhaps he will come. Today I fought against it but I am seized by a desire to become a nurse or something that would take me to France. wept. Anais. Ah. it seems more as though I am kissing and hugging Papa. but I fell back asleep and dreamed that I was saving France. Last night I dreamed about piano music slow as a lullaby. Since this morning there hasn't been one minute without rain. still in my humdrum life. That moment is sweet.. but afterward sadness comes again with the truth and my heart weeps and weeps again. I kiss him. Today I thought about it even more deeply and my Communion was just for Papa.ADream by Anais One day at my window.. What sweet words! But afterward the truth came to me and my heart wept. I am too little and I should give up those ideas. I saw the one I love. then about the faint voice of the guitar. Vain illusions. Tonight I am sadder than ever and my sorrow is greater still. Maman. how many thinks I would like to be. red stores and houses that are so tall one can hardly see the sky. No one but God knows my bitter sorrow. about langorous and sad songs. where I had so often wept and where so many bitter tears had fallen. Why can I not have my father with me as well? Why can I not have the joy of Communion together with Papa and Maman? Alas. At the moment of Communion. I think that I might also be with him again. How happy I was. who care for the soldiers. It's music that makes me sad. Oh. which makes me very sad because I remember when Papa accompanied her. November 15 1914 Each time I take Communion the thought of Papa becomes sadder and I don't know why. . happiness! I can't believe it! That day I knew the happiness of my father's kiss. but if it's Maman who gives me my lesson. save France since that is your wish. I rushed forward and a quarter of an hour later the whole city shouted. Rise up. My dreams are always about Papa. I would be the happiest girl in the world. I am jealous of the other little girls with their papas. for I envy the sisters. I have thought deeply about the happiness that some children must feel having their father and mother near them. The sky is darker still and the day is sad. For a long time I repeated Papa. Full of love. everything is quiet. Well. then I go at it with a great deal of pleasure. That moment is sweet. and here I am. and in this silence I come to entrust my thoughts to my faithful confidant.It is late. all three taking Communion. what wouldn't I do to please Maman and Papa. Victory! Vive la France. I am too sad to continue. and then I think of Brussels and the war. but alas. what joy! Oh. he presses me to his heart. about the harp with its sweet harmonious sounds. My efforts are crowned by small successes that make me very happy. Maman sings. so I feel very calm. He comes back. how long it has been makes me weep many times. I am going to try and amuse myself.

it is two and a half years that I have been away from Papa. toward the blue sky and the land of dreams. that I breathe the air full of ambition that fills New York. the devouring passion that seizes us and lets go only with death." a word that means pain. and writing is a passion with me. and heaven help me not to fall victim to it because ambition counts many victims. If I am not mistaken. so without paying attention to the passerby. I have chestnut hair. But lets stay on the track. if I am not mistaken. August 13 1915 In front of me stretches a green lawn shining in the sun. a passably nice smile. Papa's absence turns into wishes. a year full of work. the thoughts that I have expressed only to you? May 20 1915 I am Angela Anais Juana Antolina Rosa Edelmira Nin y Culmell. not counting Maman. of walks. oh. I am a French girl who loves.. I have a funny laugh. Life. without listening to the murmur of the branches that are shaken by a very cool wind. I am crazy about reading. I have always hidden them. I can't stand to be teased but I like a little to tease others. that is to say exactly today. and respects her country. It is one year. I shall begin. a clump of trees. When I am angry.. I believe fervently in God and in everything God tells me through His holy Church. no. I don't love easily and become attached only to whom people I respect in my own way. by which I mean it is a little long. although less. My mouth is big. everyone says. My nose is a bit the Culmell nose. we have been here just a year. if my diary thinks I have abandoned it! Oh. and of endless dreams. happy dream of youth. I have large feet and large hands with fingers that often are clenched with nervousness. never. I admire Spain. I am rather tall for my age. a mournful word that weighs down my heart. in front of me and behind me. but that draws near. not very light in color. of course. one year I have been in New York. I was looking for solitude. Is it because reality seems to me too sad? I am afraid so. the main avenue through the park. I love Grandmother. repulsed. a year that we are here. whom no one loves. Papa. I said it was a year. I would liked to have been more alone. I am too fond of dreaming. My diary knows my thoughts as well as I know them myself. I already feel very remorseful because I didn't begin my diary sooner. At this hour (noon) we were having dinner for the last time on the Monserrat.May 11 1915 I wonder. In the distance. telling myself my role is that of someone who is despised. freed from the earth can soar toward the infinite. and I promise my diary never to give it up. Maman calls them locks of hair. But I must admit that it was only when I began to keep a diary that my ideas began to take shape and pour forth. admires. but then my soul. like Grandmother's. November 23 1915 What is my role in the world? My eyes shine. into dreams that are full of melancholy. my mouth becomes an ugly pout. never. Usually I am serious and somewhat distracted. To whom could I have confided all the thoughts that fill my mind if not to a diary? Cinfidant that I love. but Joaquinito didn't want to walk any farther. My disposition: I get angrily easily. Prayer is something to which I have always had recourse. I adore my mother and father and above all my aunts and all the rest of the family. a real French girl. So I always come back to Papa and I shall stop because I don't want my diary to become as melancholy as I am. and Joaquinito. My Life is . My face is very pale and I have big brown eyes(1) that are vague and that I am afraid reveal my crazy thoughts. and I especially admire Beligium. no. either in a braid or tied back with a hair ribbon. alas! That is harsh. when I let so many days go by without writing. I long to pierce the night from which secrets of the future are hidden and I push from me a mad. which now has been replaced by a new boat whose name I can't remember. On theleft. I am sitting all alone on a bench in the shade of a big tree. Fortunately I am not an ungrateful person. I am twelve years old at present. "Life. Now. Thorvald. I like to work. which falls a little below the shoulder. Life begins when one is grown and without parents to shape it. I am thin. do you promise always to keep the heart that I have given you.

and I soar into an infinite without misery and without end. and I admit I feel more like punishing. I run away from all that. I dream. avenging. Life for me will be like something despised. For me. If I am looked down upon. when one that is open becomes locked. She has a delightful disposition (I say. amusement or pleasure. It seems to me I am looking for something. unfortunately). then I feel as though I hear a mysterious voice speaking to me. I promised myself to make a picture of my heart. the World. 1916 February 2 1916 I wanted to go over the last few pages that I wrote under the influence of a lot of sadness. A disposition such as mine is made to live in union only with solitude. 13 years old! An age when the future. Ah. when night covers the great city with her dark cloak. Everyone likes her (and hates her). of. but when my free spirit escapes from the powerful claws of that mortal enemy. opening human eyes and hearts to the bayonet. for if on the outside I seem fairly happy. 13 years old! Ana age when a little girl breaks the frail cocoon and becomes a young lady. one can never be alone and forget. February 22 1916 (Anais Nin's Birthday!) 13 years old! An age when the world gives a glimpse of its abyss of pleasures. June 6 1916 . I stay a long time. 13 years old! An age when a locked heart opens. and I think it is. comes to haunt one's dreams. I call that voice "my genie. The last time. Since I run away from Life. (true) She has pretty dark-brown hair (very ugly) and big brown eyes (very ugly). I run away from Life. 13.coming closer. When she laughs. you can see her white teeth (decayed. I don't know what. When there is no sound to be heard. but I say to myself that in this world. hiding the shining mask. madness. She was born in Paris (a great honor for anyone born there) and she has traveled almost everywhere in Europe (it's true). my last words were. I believe that means someone who wants to do good. hum!) and is never angry (except when she flies into a rage). In a little while I shall have to support Maman and Papa. I forget everything. like a donkey). The lines that follow will be the same. rather silly. since it thinks as I do. life is: noise. no man will want to be my master. I am 13 years old! April 14 1916 Description of Anais Nin by Marian Hearn Anais' humorous comments refuting her friend's lovely description of her in parantheses! Anais Nnn is very tall for her age. She is gifted at composition and drawing (perhaps). I must live. Oh. She has been here only a year and she is remarkably intelligent (like a donkey). bitterness. I don't know which." Good or Evil. inside I am very unhappy. which yesterday seemed far away.. half asleep. Dreams are my Life. I can't understand what it says. but that same voice speaks to me. I don't feel anythin. the deepest of my somber feelings. I suppose the voice comes from me. I am out of my mind! But if it's crazy. rather rattle-brained. it seems to me I find what I wanted. What did I mean? I think I can explain. I think and I gorget to be silly.. of a Philanthropist. which are white as pearls (imitation). She is very good company because she is gay and polite everywhere. although I think I am alone.I am looking for a strange name for myself. These are the thoughts of my heart. What will my bayonet be? My pen. The Sisters like her more (I suppose) because she is so good (bad) and so intelligent (I repeat. no. Life will no longer be my friend. Is it forgetfulness? Silence? I don't know. I forget the earth. and there it is. the dream that sustains the solitary person that I shall be for I say again. I long for silence.

I shall chose a man like that. which will be very sad and full of terrible. He was sitting not far from the swing. "Anais!" "What?" "I have something important to tell you. and on top of that I've convinced you that i'm not pretty.I don't know.N. white teeth. Something like the Count of Monte Cristo. a pale mysterious face. busily whittling a boat with his knife. Then my beloved diary will be the recipient of two great secrets and will have two hearts to watch over.So I dream about a tall. in front of the fire in winter. and. Above all." "Well. It will know two signatures. and able to write or play some kind of musical instrument.. strong man with black hair. All the same. though. and we shall write in this same diary together. dark melancholy eyes. with a book or a pencil. I would have taken a tumble. with a soft. My hair. frightening adventures. a dignified walk and a distant smile. I wasn't thinking of much of anything when suddenly Thorvald called to me. sometimes covered my face. We would spend every evening at home. I preferred John O'Connell to the other boys in my class. I smile serenly. his hand resting on mine! Isn't that the way husbands are? If I ever should marry. Thorvald.I would like it to be a fantastic and unknown name like. There. added: "And he told also me that he wants you for his girl. My goodness.. but a bit mockingliy. I was on the swing. are you by any chance making fun of me? You know very well I don't. and now he tells my brother that he wants me for his "girl. clear what a little girl I still am! . sometimes danced around my head. happily." said Thorvald with a little teasing air. in the garden in summer. "Who?" "John O'Connell.. 1917 May 22 1917 At half past five this afternoon. A. I would like him to tell me about his life. He had to repeat what he had said three times and I couldn't believe him. which Maman had curled. I shall think about it some more and look for a good name. I would like him to be rather proud and haughty. tell me." At that point I almost fell off the swing and if Thorvald hadn't stopped it. and Thorvald.." I turned red.." As I write that." "Do you think you're pretty?" "Ah. who was watching me. What more do you want?" "I know someone who thinks you're pretty. I'm listening.. I smile. fond of books.

After a few days. I found only a bottomless chasm the depths of which I couldn't sound..I smile as I shall always smile at those games. and I hope with all my heart to be able to write things in it that I shall never be ashamed of.Is it possible! A girl of 14? Yes. next to the old red notebook that I have just finished. you will know me very well and will become aquainted with my ideas and the meanderings of my mad imagination..But he has beautiful blue eyes. I shall try to write faithfully and sincerely every day and you will take your place with my other diaries and written with the same pen. What will our destiny be? Now. letting an artificial tear fall on its pages. her tiny and nice little knight (American). old notebook. which meant that I went to my dancing lesson putting on more airs than usual.. etc. my little diary.. affectionate friend Anais 1918 ". I was alone and something was missing. with a change in my character which astonishes me a little. dear new notebook.. an emptieness that I had never felt. 1919 March 22 1919 I have just opened a new notebook and made a new friend.. twice. I have been living in a strange world.I am considered a very well-behaved girl who studies hard and does very well. he is brave. I suppose. a thing I had never. which later on will become serious. kindness and above all. a bit of foolishness for girls like me who read too much. Last night it was hot and I was leaning on the sill of the open window in the living room. if I dream of magic voyages. my old friend.. nice manners. sweetness. as you see. and here I am face to face with one with blank pages to fill. Only. then close it gently. and that's all I want. April 11 1919 I wore my cape and my beautiful new shoes for the first time. Then my imagination got the better of me. memorable. it's John O'Connell that I'm thinking of. it's true! Your crazy little confidante has found her knight. A sinlge idea had taken possession of my dreams. I am sincere and I don't mind if my Papa knows that his daughter is a model of good conduct.And I take leave of it! Your devoted. May 15 1919 It's a little difficult to explain what I have been thinking about the last few days. alas! search too eagerly for the living image of the heroes whose lives they have read about. and who.. December 31 1917 Tomorrow a new year begins: 1918.. If I build castles in Spain. in an attack of reverie. This is the result of the long hours that I spend alone thinking. I take my old. I couldn't write because when I tried to discover what I was dreaming about. And I am still smiling. It wasn't . never thought of. and kiss it once. Let happen what will happen! It's a school game. I have just closed a notebeook which is already full.

I arrived in New York with my mind made up to detest it. much easier. I am neither naive or shy. But I could read my character. on the threshold of another being that will be added to or will replace the one I am about to leave behind. very powerful. September 1 1919 Yesterday afternoon I wrote a short story. I had never been aware of that immense empty space that can only be filled by a Shadow that my mind has created. and second I had time to analyze all the conversations that I heard and to "ruminate" like a cow about what was said. a great many ideas have come to me and I recieve them with pleasure. my handwriting is changing. and I haven't yet been able to correct that. Around me. and am less ignorant. Even now. When the story was finished. I am a tiny little bit discouraged because I write rather like a child. shy. I talked with him. Zounds! June 13 1919 During the last two hours. under the starry sky. not like a lady. the natural and inevitable tragedy of life unfolds. I understand that the little eleven-year-old girl and her character exist only in the notebooks. face to face with a horizon that doesn't go further than the end of the street. My personality is developing. down to the lines I wrote two hours ago. I mean Mr. May 26 1919 Book after book. obsessed by that dream. I got busy and copied it carefully. my brothers or the rest of my family. Does he exist? And there. At 16 I have changed so much that right now. Today by chance I didn't see the person to whom I would find it impossible to say only 14 1/2 words in a day. Then. I knew that I wanted someone very strong. from the one I began in 1914 on the ship that was to carry me far away from Spain. unexpectedly. naive. May 22 1919 I can assure you that it isn't necessary to say more than 14 1/2 words per day. There is only one drawback. Dreams and dreams. is like an abyss that makes me dizzy. It is an image or an idol that my dreams have created and that I am searching for in mortal form. that my dreams have given a soul. my spelling is a little better. my ideas are becoming clear and precise. the smiling moon. which is so normal. and looking into the eyes of the one that my imagination placed there. I have only one aim: as soon as I am in New York. instead of saying something stupid. because I never open my mouth except to say silly things. This transformation. much wiser. as this doesn't often happen. and with the help of memory. I wrote another one that is much better. for I was only eleven years old. with my head in my hands. Also this great desire to write. I wrote things that I found unexplainable at the time and that I now understand. What food for thought. I was ignorant. I may be on the threshold of another transformation. much more intelligent to listen to others talking and to think about what they say. And now today. someone! I don't understand it all. and last. I have been busy rereading several of my diaries. when I analyze my feelings. At first I couldn't read the dreadful handwriting and horrible spelling. thinking no doubt of all the novels I have read.the love of my mother. Gradening when my eyes refuse to read. I fell asleep last night dreaming that I had taken it to a publisher who frightened me terribly and told me that I could do better. with a calm smile. Madriguera. I took a large armchair and set it very close to my chair. I have gone through so many impressions. very handsome who would me and whom I could love with all my heart. It is a deep mystery of nature that takes my breath away. I am sad and happy. there is less noise in the house. I will type my story on the machine and putting all my sensitiveness and especially my fear of being ridiculous to one . like a country girl. as one gets rid of an old worn coat. I could follow with breathless interest the changes that events have made on my personality. It's much simpler. I sent a very sad prayer into infinite space: Love me. I guessed that everyone around me was very happy about my silence. Suddenly. Slowly I grew up. First.

I created you. but also there is that inexplicable something that I was born with it..side. I will not be able to tell you in here about my 17th birthday! I ought to shorten my chats. but I was born with a terribly long pen instead of a long tongue. and people made a snow-child that also came to life! From one moment to the next. There are the bells. I took part in all their crazy games. whereas I never "play" with him. Thorvald was extremely pleased as well!I dread Sundays because of going to Mass in that subterranean church! Luckily Sunday comes but once a week. and I can write it better than any other language! Furthermore.. things that make me feel doubts about my career. Before going out. my little diary! You know that there was a sculptor who created a statue that came to life. so I can try. not to exploit her work and cheat the booksellers and Anais' estate but rather to introduce her to readers worldwide who do not have ready access to Anais Nin's works. I am not old! So I made the beds in a few seconds and ran into my room to put on a sweater and a tam-o' they can read a few pieces of her work. Today I was making the beds and when I opened the window to air the room. and I have never laughed so much or run so much. if I write so much everyday. When I went upstairs to take off my sweater. Thanks and Enjoy!****Rebecca!********* . Thorvald has always aid that all of his friend's sisters are very jolly. It's my French that worries me. I have English at my disposal now.. I will really go to see that terrible publisher.. the whistles. and making the air ring with their shouts and laughter. I am here in the great country of opportunity.. And what enthusiasm is tied to this dream of hope and ambition! I have never taken lessons in how to write stories. but lo and behold.will go out to the bookstores or local library and pick up Nin's work! I want to make Anais' beautiful words accessible to everyone! LINOTTE is 518 pages including the index and I have just picked a few of the wonderful passages from it to give you a taste.. falling onto piles of dry leaves. November 22 1919 The thing i most want to tell you about is the few hours I spent outside. For a long time I have written nothing except my diary. Oh.and if they like it. Happy New Year! Happy New Year! JANUARY 16 1920 I am almost at the end of another notebook. and yes. But oh! how few adventures I will have written if nothing else happens before the last page! To be sure Maman is definately leaving for Cuba. become somebody! 1920 More Anais Nin 1920 excerpts coming soon! I am posting EXCERPTS of Anais Nin's work. running hard. I got on the swing and swung clear up to the branches of the big trees. I became absorbed in watching Thorvald and Joaquinito playing ball. Once outside.. and the dozens of letters I write seem like a drop in the water--I always want to write more! If only you had a tongue. December 31 1919 *New Years Eve* What a quiet way to await the beginning of another year! There must be many other things to think about that are more important than the passage of time. Also. I had to go in because I was hungry and all three of us had a snack of fruit and cookies. there is a lot of discouragement. I had time to notice that I was very pale. and I had somewhat lost hope of ever becoming an author. Suddenly the idea struck me that at 16. and that the Inevitable isn't Life. a smile. and little by little experience will teach me all the things that I lack. That proves that Time doesn't rule through the power of the Inevitable. how much fun they have. I never went very far in school. since so many other things stir our enthusiasm and drive us to act.It's strange how this real ambition has suddenly come to life. I was astonished at the transformation I saw in the mirror. I played like a little girl! When I was tired of playing. I expect a little movement. but that is rather sad. I strted to think how young they are.. and that I would like to do the same. and I always feel gloomy when she is going away.

philip kaufman's film [dir.the film...kate winslet. A MUST SEE BIZARRE EXPERIENCE Paris of ANAIS Marquis de sade.Anais Nin sites official and informative must see Anais Nin page creative and beautiful Anais site Faerie Anais an extensive great site I am a Pisces: Anais MY LABRYNTH OF ANAIS NIN PAGE! Anais cassettes of her reading her own diaries Anais Observed video (1996) Preservation of Anais's Louvciennes house Salon Weekly Interview w/Anais Biographer Deidre bair on the Secret Life of Anais Anais Nin: Mistress of the Erotic JOIN MY ANais Nin Club! very cool flash media here to the film and book Fightclub all addictions recovery club big book step study 12 steps work/meetings Anais Nin Mailing List JOIN TODAY! HENK & ANAIS LOVE PAGE. of henry & june] ANJA write a virtual letter to Anais through Adele's Anais page! ...

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