I don't know what I just read but it was pretty.

It seems to be a story about a woman who is seeking to love herself through others.

Perhaps she has always felt incomplete within herself and believes that the love and approval of others will fill that void.

She might go from one relationship to another, hoping to find the acceptance and validation she craves.

However, true self-love cannot be found in the external. It must come from within.

Maybe this woman will eventually realize that she needs to look within herself, to embrace her flaws and strengths, and to learn to love herself unconditionally.

Only then will she be able to build healthy and fulfilling relationships with others, based on mutual respect and love.

Until then, she will continue on her journey, searching for something that can only be found within her own heart.

This is simultaneously the most beautiful and the most frustrating thing I have ever read.

It is truly a masterpiece that leaves me in awe. I think I could read this a thousand times and still not totally understand it, but in the best way imaginable.

The way it is written, the complexity of the ideas, and the emotions it evokes make it perfection.

However, I must add that I don't recommend it without a decent background knowledge of Nin and her life.

The characters that appear are representative of the people she knew, and she draws on a lot of the themes she discusses elsewhere, like the fragmented self.

Understanding these aspects will enhance the reading experience and allow the reader to fully appreciate the depth and beauty of the work.

Overall, it is a book that I will continue to revisit and explore, always finding something new and wonderful each time.

Anais Nin's words are like a powerful force that stirs the soul.

She describes the turmoil within her own life, the intense longing to find a way to express the searing emotions that boil within.

The image of seeking a free avenue to carry the molten cries is truly evocative, as if those cries are liquid fire, burning to be released.

And the idea of melting the pain into a cauldron of words, making it accessible to everyone who is also in pain, is both beautiful and profound.

It shows her compassion and her belief in the power of words to heal and connect.

How can one not be in awe of such a talented and insightful writer?

Anais Nin's work has the ability to touch us on a deep level, to make us feel seen and understood in our own pain.

Her words are a gift, a source of inspiration and comfort for all who read them.

A story without events, without dialogue, just a mess.

It is beneficial to find beautiful quotes in the book, and that's all there is to it.

This kind of story may seem rather strange at first glance. Without any events unfolding or characters engaging in dialogue, it can leave the reader feeling a bit lost. However, it does have its redeeming quality. The presence of beautiful quotes within the book can be a source of inspiration and thought-provoking moments. These quotes can offer unique perspectives on life, love, or other aspects of the human experience. While the lack of a traditional narrative may not appeal to everyone, for those who are open to a different kind of literary experience, this story without events and dialogue might just have something valuable to offer.

A prose-poem that feels more like one is gazing at an abstract painting. Few can capture the beauty, translucence, terror, and surreal nature of a dream-state as Anaïs Nin does. She succeeds where others often fail, achieving a depth that seems both ethereal and firmly grounded.

The tactile and motile qualities of her imagery, especially her depictions of water in the dream, are presented with an Ophelian cadence, embodying both fragility and grace. Her writing flows like a dream, delicate yet powerful. Here, the emotional stakes are as high as ever, with every word inviting the reader to sink deeper into its poetic embrace.

"I remember my first birth in water. All around me is a sulphurous transparency, and my bones move as if made of rubber. I sway and float, stand on boneless toes listening for distant sounds, sounds beyond the reach of human ears, seeing things beyond the reach of human eyes. Born full of memories of the Atlantide. Always listening for lost sounds and searching for lost colors, forever standing on the threshold like one troubled with memories, and walking with a swimming stride. I cut the air with wide-slicing fins and swim through wall-less rooms."

"Greyness is no ordinary greyness, but a vast lead roof that covers the world like the lid of a soup pan. The breath of human beings is like the steam of a laundry house. The smoke of cigarettes is like a rain of ashes from Vesuvius. The lights taste of sulphur, and each face stares at you with the immensity of its defects. The smallness of a room is like that of an iron cage in which one can neither sit nor lie down. The largeness of other rooms is like a mortal danger always suspended above you, awaiting the moment of your joy to fall. Laughter and tears are not separate experiences, with intervals of rest: they rush out together, and it is like walking with a sword between your legs. Rain does not wet your hair but drips in the cells of the brain with the obstinacy of a leak. Snow does not freeze the hands but, like ether, distends the lungs until they burst. All the ships are sinking with fire in their bowels, and there are fires hissing in the cellars of every house. The loved one's whitest flesh is what the broken glass will cut and the wheel will crush. The long howls in the night are howls of death. Night is the collaborator of torturers. Day is the light on harrowing discoveries. If a dog barks, it is the man who loves wide gashes leaping in through the window. Laughter precedes hysteria. I am waiting for the heavy fall and the foam at the mouth."

"Semen dried into the silence of rock and mineral. The words we did not shout, the tears unshed, the curse we swallowed, the phrase was shortened, the love we killed, turned into magnetic iron ore, into tourmaline, into pyrate agate, blood congealed into cinnabar, blood calcinated, leadened into galena, oxidized, aluminized, sulphated, calcinated, the mineral glow of dead meteors and exhausted suns in the forest of dead trees and dead desires."

If I were a more passionate poetry enthusiast, perhaps I would have held a greater appreciation for this work.

I regarded it as being just okay. It didn't possess the power to deeply touch my emotions or exhibit an outstanding level of beauty that would have left a lasting impression.

The words seemed to lack that certain spark or magic that can make a poem truly remarkable.

While it wasn't a bad piece by any means, it failed to reach the heights that would have made it stand out among other works of poetry.

Maybe with a more refined taste for poetry or a different perspective, I might have been able to see the hidden gems within it.

But as it stands, it simply didn't have the impact on me that I had hoped for.

A wild, intense assault of images

that are visceral and raw. It is thoroughly female and savage, in the best sense

of the word. I simply can't help but go back to it from time to time. Certain passages still thread through my mind with such power

that they are unforgettable. For example, the lines "I am constantly reconstructing a pattern of something forever lost and which I cannot forget" and "She was spreading herself like the night over the universe and found no god to lie with."

I feel a deep, creative kinship with Nin for her common love and use of certain symbols such as trees, eggs, blood, birds, and so on. But most importantly, we share a propensity to relate life experiences to the physical nature and processes of a woman's body, including pregnancy, birth, labor, cycles, nursing, motherhood, and the purpose in natural pain

among others. Oh, my dear, undone poetess. Be forewarned, Nin is not for the faint at heart. However, if you have a taste for Nin and Tori Amos from time to time, this is prose that you can truly sink your teeth into and explore the depths of its meaning.

This might have been worthwhile reading when it was written in 1958. Back then, merely writing the word “orgasm” was a revolutionary act. However, now it reads like a dictionary thrown into a garbage disposal.

It seems as if it is the excreta of a lesbian creative writing class that devoured a thesaurus. The number of similes in the first five pages alone was sufficient to make me feel nauseous. It hits every pretentious and asinine cliché that a writer could possibly pen down: Christ, Joan of Arc, the “house” of one’s inner self, and so on ad infinitum.

This book truly sucks. I strongly recommend that you don’t read it.

Nevertheless, I gave one star for the fairly neat photomontage artworks. They were perhaps the only redeeming feature in this otherwise lackluster piece of literature.

Overall, it is a disappointment and fails to live up to any reasonable expectations of quality writing.

I hope this review saves others from wasting their time on this unappealing book.

This book was an absolute wild twisting ride through the depths of her dreams and subconscious.

Brilliant imagery abounds on every single page. The double exposed photos are a perfect fit for both the book and its mood, adding an extra layer of depth and mystery.

I think this was the very first thing she printed, although I could be wrong as I usually am. Anyhoo, it's the first book of hers that I had the pleasure of reading, and now I'm completely hooked and reading all of her output.

This is an excellent place to start if you've never read her work before. It's extremely psychedelic and spiritual, taking you on a journey like no other.

Also, it's short enough to be read in a single sitting, so don't hesitate, just buy it and read it! You really have nothing to lose. If for some reason you hate it, I'll even get your money back, but please don't mess up the book. Just read it in one go and then return it.

Trust me, you'll be missing out if you don't give this book a chance. I've read and reread it countless times and have given copies to quite a few friends. It's truly brilliant!

Some quotes from this book that made me want to bash my skull against the nearest flat surface!!

“The loved one’s whitest flesh is what the broken glass will cut and the wheel crush. The long howls in the night are howls of death. Night is the collaborator of torturers.” This description is so vivid and macabre that it sends shivers down my spine. It makes me imagine the horror and pain that the loved one might endure, and the night seems to be a sinister accomplice in this cruel act.

“At the same time I know that if I stayed in this room a few days an entirely new life could begin—like the soldering of human flesh after an operation. It is the terror of this new life, more than the terror of dying, which arouses me. I jump out of bed and run out of this room growing around me like a poisoned web, seizing my imagination, gnawing into my memory so that in seven moments I will forget who I am and whom I have loved.” The author's words here convey a sense of unease and dread. The idea of a new life starting in this room is both exciting and terrifying, and the description of the room as a poisoned web that entraps the narrator's mind and memory is truly haunting.

“Reality was drowned and fantasies choked each hour of the day.” This simple yet powerful sentence sums up the disorienting and overwhelming nature of the narrator's experiences. It seems that the line between reality and fantasy has become blurred, and the narrator is struggling to hold onto a sense of sanity and identity.

“Don't say anything, because I see that you understand me, and I am afraid of your understanding. I have such a fear of finding another like myself, and such a desire to find one! I am so utterly lonely, but I also have such a fear that my isolation be broken through, and I no longer be the head and ruler of my universe. I am in great terror of your understanding by which you penetrate into my world; and then I stand revealed and I have to share my kingdom with you.” The narrator's internal conflict is palpable in these lines. On one hand, there is a longing for connection and understanding, but on the other hand, there is a deep-seated fear of losing one's individuality and control. The idea of someone else penetrating into the narrator's private world and seeing the true self is both thrilling and terrifying.

“But Jeanne, fear of madness, only the fear of madness will drive us out of the precincts of our solitude, out of the sacredness of our solitude. The fear of madness will burn down the walls of our secret house and send us out into the world seeking warm contact. Worlds self-made and self-nourished are so full of ghosts and monsters.” The mention of the fear of madness as the catalyst for breaking free from solitude adds another layer of complexity to the narrator's emotional state. It suggests that the narrator is aware of the potential consequences of remaining in isolation for too long, and that the only way to escape the ghosts and monsters of the self-created world is to reach out and make contact with others.

Overall, these quotes from the book offer a glimpse into the tortured and complex mind of the narrator. They are both disturbing and thought-provoking, and they leave the reader with a sense of unease and a desire to know more about the narrator's story.

I had a deep longing within me. I desired to caress gently, as if my touch could bring comfort and warmth. I yearned to heal the wounds, both physical and emotional, of those around me. I wanted to rock them, lulling them into a sense of peace and security. I aimed to surround them with my love and encompass them completely. But in my eagerness and straining, I held on too tightly. And they broke. They broke away from my grasp. Everything seemed to elude me then. It was as if I was condemned not to hold onto the things and people I cherished. The pain of losing them was almost unbearable. But perhaps, in my excessive effort, I had overlooked the importance of a more gentle and balanced approach.

It seems that she entered a website and threw in difficult and rarely used words. But it became a beautiful poem and I will repeat the same passage that everyone repeats because it also caught me very much:

“Don’t say anything, because I see that you understand me, and I am afraid of your understanding. I have such a fear of finding another like myself, and such a desire to find one! I am so utterly lonely, but I also have such a fear that my isolation be broken through, and I no longer be the head and ruler of my universe.”

This passage truly touches the heart. It expresses the complex emotions within a person. On one hand, there is the longing for someone who can understand, yet on the other hand, there is the fear of losing one's own individuality and the sense of being in control. The fear of finding a kindred spirit and the fear of having one's isolation shattered coexist, creating a turmoil of emotions. It makes one think about the delicate balance between seeking connection and maintaining one's own identity in this vast universe.