“You don’t know what a wild, crazy longing I have, what an ache there is inside me.”
Henry Miller, from a letter to Anaïs Nin, featured in A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller, 1932-1953
"August evenings are especially stricken with melancholy - as if the ghosts of all past summers came rushing to haunt my heart."
from Letters of Summer Past (Listy Tamtego Lata) VI
i think names are such a delicate thing and we dont say each other's names enough bc why else does it strike such a chord in me when ppl say my name as if i actually exist