The blonde was called freedom, the dark one enterprise.

It is what it is

It was what it was.

A casual faun.

"Please let him come and give me the resilience and guts to make him respect me, be 

interested, and not to throw myself at him with loudness or hysterical yelling; calmly,gently, 

easy baby,easy. He is probably strutting the backs among crocuses now with seven 

Scandinavian mistresses. And I sit spiderlike, waiting here, home; Penelope weaving webs of 

Webster, turning spindles of Tourneur. Oh, he is here; my black marauder; oh hungry 

hungry. I am so hungry for a big smashing creative burgeoning burdened love: I am here;

I wait, and he plays on the banks of the river Cam like a casual faun."

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath ( March 10, 1956) 

Big City Life

Franz Kafka, November 3 1912 (Letters To Felice)

"If you were one of those people who are affected by someone thinking of you, you would have woken up with a start in the middle of the night; reading in bed in the morning the lines would have become blurred; at breakfast your eyes would have strayed beyond your coca and rolls, and even beyond your mother; the orchids you were taking to a new apartment would have petrified in your hand, and only now…would you be left in peace, for now I am not thinking of you, rather I am with you." Franz Kafka, November 3 1912 (Letters To Felice)

A Woman Under The Influence

"It was sometime in October; she had long ago lost track of all the days and it really didn’t matter because one was like another and there were no nights to separate them because she never slept any more." Sylvia Plath, Tongues of Stone

heureuse nouvelle année

"Heaven preserve me from littleness and pleasantness and smoothness. Give me great glaring vices, and great glaring virtues, but preserve me from the neat little neutral ambiguities. Be wicked, be brave, be drunk, be reckless, be dissolute, be despotic, be a suffragette, be anything you like, but for pity's sake be it to the top of your bent. Live fully, live passionately, live disastrously.

Let's live you and I, as none have ever lived before. "

Violet Trefusis to Vita Sackville-West, October 25, 191

On Fame

I.

Fame, like a wayward girl, will still be coy
To those who woo her with too slavish knees,

But makes surrender to some thoughtless boy,
And dotes the more upon a heart at ease;

She is a Gipsey,--will not speak to those
Who have not learnt to be content without her;

A Jilt, whose ear was never whisper'd close,
Who thinks they scandal her who talk about her;

Make your best bow to her and bid adieu,
Then, if she likes it, she will follow you.