MIND: Vengeful

When I think I have conquered the monster, it attacks me again. I awaken in the morning charged with poisons. I see failure of my writing, failure to live for one absolute love, failure to free myself from emotional tyranny.

// Anaïs Nin

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MIND: Lull

One must also accept that one has uncreative moments. The more honestly one can accept that, the quicker these moments will pass. One must have the courage to call a halt, to feel empty and discouraged.

// Etty Hillesum

MIND: Jinxed

You are among those people for whom happiness does not exist. Do you know why? You ask of life more than life can give you. Really, your ardour for perfection is making you very unhappy…

// Richard Aldington, from a letter to Hilda Doolittle

MIND: At Ease

It is paradoxical that even in this heaviness I feel unusually free and easy, and it occurred to me suddenly the other night that this may be because I am not in love with anyone. I feel independent, as I did when I was a child, before I came to understand the promise and responsibility of gender.

// Anne Truitt

MIND: Rejuvenate

All this summer I was as nervous as a cat,–starting, dreaming, brooding,–now I’m all vigorous and sturdy again, and ravenous for life once more. My dearest, I do love you. I do bless you for all you’ve been to me. This is not a joke, but a very sober truth.

// Vita Sackville-West, from a letter to Virginia Woolf

MIND: Heatwave

The heat has gone to my head, mother. I indulge, I overindulge. There is nothing delicate about it. I am being compulsive, I depress myself. I hate need but I need to feel needed. I need to feel indispensable. Utterly, explicitly, and ferociously indispensable.

// Sylvia Plath

MIND: Gifts

You have to take the other person into account even during an effusion of passion. You mustn’t hand out passion to them like a slap. It must remain a gift made in order to be received, an expression of feeling, a gift granted to and intended for someone — rather than being a mere organic outburst.

// Simone de Beauvoir, from a letter to Jean-Paul Sartre