She is my inspiration.

Whenever I feel lost or in doubt about my writing, I turn to the books that she has recommended or written herself.

These books are like a guiding light, constantly reminding me of why writing is my soul's passion.

They offer me valuable insights, unique perspectives, and beautiful language that I strive to emulate in my own work.

Whether it's a classic novel, a collection of poetry, or a memoir, each book has something special to offer.

I find myself continually referencing these books, highlighting passages, and taking notes.

They have become an essential part of my writing journey, and I am grateful to have such a wonderful source of inspiration in my life.

Thanks to her, I am able to stay motivated and focused on my writing, and I look forward to seeing where this journey takes me.

Night. The stars and the moon, impassive, undisturbed, eternal. A little of their impassivity flows into me. They are consoling. They reduce the intensity and acuteness of human sorrow. - The Journals of Anais Nin, Volume Three

I have a profound love for reading diaries in general, and Nin's are perhaps my absolute favourite. I cherish the things she values in life, such as meaningful relationships, art, literature, music, and culture. Not to mention, she is the most empathetic writer; her rich inner life shines through brilliantly in her writing.

Nin has relocated back to the USA after the outbreak of World War 2. Having to leave Louveciennes, a place she adores, where she writes and has a circle of acquaintances, is no easy feat for her. She experiences a significant culture shock in the States and struggles to integrate. Her European-style writing fails to gain popularity in the States; it is regarded as too surreal and insubstantial. Consequently, she encounters difficulties in getting published and resorts to printing her own books using a printing press.

I believe this might be my most beloved volume of Nin's journals thus far. During the first two volumes, Nin seemed to me like an otherworldly being, almost a superwoman. However, in this volume, she appears a bit different, a bit more "real." Perhaps this is due to her homesickness, the outbreak of war, and also the passage of age, which often brings with it realizations. In this case, it is the realization that she is everyone's "mother"; people continuously take from her (and I must admit she is somewhat of an enabler as well), and very few give back. It is truly heart-wrenching to witness so many of her "friends" draining her dry, including Henry Miller. Feeling unappreciated and overwhelmed, Nin succumbs to fatigue and illness.

I have always found it captivating to observe the famous individuals Nin met and to understand her thoughts about them. In this volume, she encounters Dali and Tennessee Williams, among others.

Her exhortation of the artist's role in society is something I deeply appreciate. It serves as a reminder that we all require art in our lives.
“To say that the artist is not serving humanity is monstrous. He has been the eyes, the ears, the voice of humanity. He was also the transcendentalist who X-rayed our true states of being.”

As always, the writing is beautiful and engaging. I managed to read this diary in record time, considering how occupied I am.

Anais Nin's diaries have truly accompanied me and taught me a great deal. I read them slowly and savor every word.

Her words are like a gentle breeze that caresses my soul, guiding me through the labyrinth of emotions and experiences.

The diaries are a treasure trove of her innermost thoughts, desires, and fears, and as I read, I feel as if I am peeking into her private world.

Each entry is a snapshot of a moment in time, filled with vivid descriptions and profound insights.

I have learned from her about the power of self-reflection, the importance of following one's heart, and the beauty that can be found in the simplest of things.

Thanks to Anais Nin's diaries, I have become a more self-aware and empathetic person, and for that, I am truly grateful.

It is the creative self which will rescue me. Constitutionally, I am more or less doomed to suffer. I have endured a great deal of anxiety and doubts, with little relief in sight. However, a remarkable displacement is now taking place within me, and it is happening in a harmonious manner. I am gradually entering a larger realm, one that holds the promise of new possibilities and growth. This creative self, like a guiding light in the darkness, is leading me towards a better understanding of myself and the world around me. It is through this creative process that I hope to find solace, meaning, and ultimately, a sense of fulfillment. I am excited to see where this journey will take me and look forward to the adventures that lie ahead in this expanded realm.

Anaïs Nin’s writing is truly magical and beautiful, like no other. Her diaries, which span many years, have been a guiding light in my life. Nowhere else have I found such profound illumination into what it means to be an introspective woman with a deep yearning to explore life more fully. I have discovered a great deal of relatability in her work. She is an undervalued writer, yet her assessments of people, including many well-known artists, her ability to articulate emotions, and her intricate descriptions are a philosophy in and of themselves.

The fact that people still demonize her for having affairs and solely focus on her as an “immoral woman” clearly demonstrates the sexism that persists in our society. The very things she did that are criticized are actions that most, if not all, male artists have also engaged in (specifically having multiple affairs and not being honest about them). However, I rarely see anyone criticizing male artists for such behavior. She is rarely recognized for her innovative writing and brilliant mind. For her courage in writing about the erotic in the most beautiful ways, her intelligence in articulating the experience of anxiety and neurosis long before it was common, and her analytical mind that captured the personas of those around her.

Some may claim that the diaries are not entirely accurate, but whose diary would be? It is her perception. Perhaps there is also an element of imagination involved, which is natural for a creative person. Each volume of the Diaries is fascinating, lovely, and a delight to read, and it illuminates the deeper aspects of the self.

If you are an artist, an introvert, an introspective intuitive woman, an observer, or someone who desires to be fulfilled by life, then Anaïs Nin’s work will be a true ally in your life.

I'll be honest: I enjoy reading Anais Nin's diaries (in limited doses), but I'll be damned if I could tell you what they are "about," you know? I mean, they're diaries.

I guess this one mainly takes place after Anais relocates to New York during World War Two. She is working as a kind of secretary/administrative assistant/student of Otto Rank, a famous psychotherapist.

She is thinking of abandoning writing and becoming a therapist herself. There's more to it, but that's the gist, I guess.

However, upon closer examination, her diaries are not just a simple record of her daily life. They are a complex exploration of her inner self, her relationships, and her thoughts on art, love, and life.

In these pages, we see Anais struggle with her identity as a woman and an artist, as well as her desire for independence and freedom.

We also witness her interactions with some of the most influential figures of her time, including Otto Rank and Henry Miller.

Overall, Anais Nin's diaries offer a fascinating glimpse into the mind of a remarkable woman and a unique perspective on a tumultuous period in history.

Komuś się trochę odkleiło. However, apart from that, it is a beautiful letter from Pierce Harwell. This letter might have lost a little bit of its adhesion, but its beauty remains intact. The words written by Pierce Harwell in this letter must have held great significance and charm for the recipient. Maybe there were some emotional expressions, or perhaps some important messages. Even though a small part of it has come loose, it doesn't detract from the overall allure of the letter. It still stands as a precious piece of communication, carrying the thoughts and feelings of Pierce Harwell.

A great look at a creative set living in America during World War II reveals a fascinating and dynamic period. The war brought about significant changes in society, and this creative set was at the forefront of expressing and adapting to these changes. They used their talents in various fields such as art, literature, music, and film to document the experiences and emotions of the time. Their works not only provided entertainment but also offered a unique perspective on the war and its impact on people's lives. Some of the most renowned artists and writers of the era emerged during this time, leaving a lasting legacy. The creative set living in America during World War II was a diverse and vibrant community, and their contributions continue to be celebrated and studied today.

Comparative comment such that you are asking for is going to be relative to the reader.

I can vividly feel my blood flowing through every chapter of the diaries. In a sense, it is the same with all fundamental truths regarding the human progression through time. They must pertain to our very own life. Every episode, every thought we have ever had about ourselves has to immanently correspond. Otherwise, we merely read about life, which is not unlike a weather report. It becomes something we listen to, rather than the actual experience of the moments one is reading about and absorbing into our very being, a recreation or enactment of our very life before our core of perception. I don't think we can simulate actual experience. Anais, from what I have read, is the embodiment of the actualization of art. The accessing of that which may have been hinted at by others but which is instead hers to bring into human focus is at the core the very essence of art. It is presenting a vista never purveyed before, in which we see ourselves as we could not articulate before. Her work is incredible for those who can relate. The propensity for human blindness about ourselves is really transcended in the diaries of this magnificent woman, for all time.

Her diaries offer a unique perspective that allows the reader to truly engage with the author's experiences and thoughts on a deep and personal level. It is as if we are given a front-row seat to her life, and through her words, we are able to gain a better understanding of our own. The power of her writing lies in its ability to make us feel as if we are living through her experiences, rather than simply reading about them. This is what makes her work so remarkable and enduring.

It has truly become a cherished tradition for me to commence the new year with Nin. And I firmly believe there couldn't be a more perfect way to do so.

"Focus on the present. Accept a quiet happiness, the absence of fever." This profound statement has always been my resolution, I think. It encapsulates the essence of living in the moment and finding contentment in the simplicity of life.

As the new year has already begun, I want to extend my belated greetings to everyone. May this year be filled with joy, love, and countless precious memories. Here's to a wonderful year ahead, filled with opportunities for growth and self-discovery. Happy belated new year, everyone!

I often find myself feeling torn.

There are times when I am faced with difficult decisions and I just can't seem to make up my mind.

On one hand, I have one set of desires and on the other hand, I have another.

It's like there are two voices inside my head, each pulling me in a different direction.

This feeling of being split can be quite overwhelming at times.

I struggle to figure out which path to take and what the right choice is.

Sometimes I think I've made a decision, only to second-guess myself later.

I wish there was an easy way to resolve this inner conflict and find a sense of clarity.

But for now, I continue to feel kluven, stuck between two options and unsure of what to do next.

Anais is in New York, a "transient foreigner" due to the war in Europe.

The hardship of relocating, of reconstructing her own small inner world, in a situation of not only material poverty. Initially, she felt a profound sense of loss, of "abandonment," noticing how America was a "cold" place, soulless, entirely focused on the "social" rather than the individual conscience, on mass phenomena rather than the person.

Anais is thus "stationary," engaged in looking around and dreaming of the Old World, suffering for it, without succumbing to despair, despite her writing being perceived as "sickly," decadent, and useless.

No one wants to publish her work, so she creates her own small printing press and returns to psychoanalysis.

The pages where she describes manual work, the physical contact with each individual letter, with each word, each sheet of paper, the tenderness she feels for the ability to... handle literature, "constructing" it, are beautiful. She is satisfied despite the physical fatigue, but it is in feeling the weariness of living that she rediscovers her own strength, and by trusting a psychoanalyst, she understands who Anais has been up to that moment.

The considerations on the creative force of women are remarkable. She only touches on the subject of "war" not out of indifference but to distance it as much as possible from herself and those she loves. She tries to overcome it by creating, gracefully enduring the tears. She too is a "contented heart," increasingly aware of her own role and that of the Artist and how she has, until then, been drained by the needs of others.

A succession of names, new acquaintances and historical friends, always her poetically psychological portraits, where perhaps the unpublishable lies hidden.

In 1944, the war is not yet over, and the third diary ends with what seems like a new attitude, Anais speaking to Anais: "Close the doors and windows to the world for a moment, turn to the diary for all its musical annotations, and start another novel." (p. 431)

To me, it would say "Turn off the TV, read a new book, and cook."

"Europe is decadent. You should be happy to be in a healthy country."

"What you call decadent," I replied, "is the courage to experiment with everything in life."

"The constant relationship to figures (the masses) seems to destroy the sense of humanity [...]"

"If we inherit character traits, why shouldn't we also inherit memories?"

"If people knew psychology better, they would have recognized in Hitler a psychotic killer. Nations are neurotic, and their leaders can be psychotic."

[...] symbolism... is the key to a vaster universe, of our unconscious, a key to the valves that open onto the infinite."

[...] sexual contact... is contact with the unknown. There is an orgasm of the soul itself, a terrible upward push that goes beyond the body. The body represents the only barrier to completeness, so we return again to the body of the beloved to renew this ascent."

"The language of sex still has to be invented. The language of the senses still has to be explored."

[...] and I asked myself if our artistic concepts did not arise from a mysterious source like the design of our blood cells."

"The source of sexual power is curiosity, passion."

"There are many minor senses that pour in like so many tributaries into the river of sex, enriching it. Only the united beat of sex and the heart can create ecstasy."

"We are cruel when someone refuses to play the role we have assigned to them. We judge a person only in accordance with their relationship to us."

[...] it seems that man always punishes every type of growth. So the woman who wants to grow chooses a passive and submissive man who will not interfere with her growth, with her evolution. But in the end, his weakness destroys her.

"This is a phase in the evolution of women. She wants to divert her force from biological motherhood to other forms of creation."

"It is a deep, difficult problem for a woman to be in spiritual communion with the cosmic. She can only reach it through a universal motherhood or as a priestess-prostitute."

I stop here, too many blue lines that I will have the opportunity to reread, the fourth Diary awaits me.