Friday, March 1, 2013

Fever, happiness and self-knowledge.

If what Proust says is true, that happiness is absence of fever, then I will never know happiness. For I am possessed by a fever for knowledge, experience, creation.

I think I have an immediate awareness in living which is far more terrible and more painful. There is no time lapse, no distance between me and the present. Instantaneous awareness. But it is also true that when I write afterwards, I see much more, I understand better, I develop and enrich.

The Diary of Anaïs Nin: Volume One 1931-1934
Edited by Gunher Stuhlmann

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