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“You are thrilled by New York – I doubt you will be after five more years when you are more fully nourished from within. I carry the place around the world in my heart, but sometimes I try to shake it off in my dreams. America’s greatest promise is that something is going to happen, and after awhile you get tired of waiting because nothing ever happens to people except that they grow old and nothing happens to American art because America is the story of the moon that never rose.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald, in a letter from 21 October 1925

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“October” by Robert Frost

O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts not averse to being beguiled, Beguile us in the way you know. Release one leaf at break of day; At noon release another leaf; One from our trees, one far away. Retard the sun with gentle mist; Enchant the land with amethyst. Slow, slow! For the grapes’ sake, if they were all, Whose leaves already are burnt with frost, Whose clustered fruit must else be lost— For the grapes’ sake along the wall.

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“If I didn’t think, I’d be much happier.”

— Sylvia Plath, Journals

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Anita Brookner, Hotel du Lac

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Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vanessa Bell written c. August 1908

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Albert Camus, The Misunderstanding (1943)

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Gallant, V. E. Schwab

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— Charles Bukowski, from Love Is a Dog from Hell

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No one is ever really alone. You are part of everything alive.

William S. Burroughs

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“An intellectual says a simple thing in a hard way. An artist says a hard thing in a simple way.”

— Charles Bukowski (b. 16 August 1920)

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“What if I told you I’m incapable of tolerating my own heart?”

— Virginia Woof, from Night and Day 

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Susan Sontag, from “Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963″

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Albert Camus, from Notebooks 1935-1942; September 9, 1937; tr. by Philip Thody

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He is my life now, my male muse, my pole-star centering me steady & right.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath ⁠— 10th April 1958

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His touch both consoles and devastates me […]

Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories; from ‘The Erl-King’

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“[…] you / are the quiet light of my soul”

— Marina Tsvetaeva (tr. Elaine Feinstein), from ‘‘POEMS FOR BLOK’‘ in Selected Poems