Monday, 26th of February 2018
When I read Jane Eyre — Helen Burns once said something full of hope and mercy to Jane:
“Besides this earth, and besides the race of men, there is an invisible world and a kingdom of spirits: that world is round us, for it is everywhere; and those spirits watch us, for they are commissioned to guard us; and if we were dying in pain and shame, if scorn smote us on all sides, and hatred crushed us, angels see our tortures, recognize our innocence…, and God waits only the separation of spirit from flesh to crown us with a full reward…”. These words often cross my mind when I am in asylum from the light and true…. They always have the will to twist these moments and turn my pessimist into strength and reliance: these words and my sweet Venus.
“I want to write a novel about the silence,” he said; “the things people don’t say.” – Virginia Woolf, The Voyage Out.
Monday, 24th of October 2016
I am always very surprised with myself in the early hours of the morning, everything is so unfamiliar and yet, how many times was I born to live in this insipid place? With my eyes closed, I open the doors that lead me to the olden and shabby corridors which once I was verily acquainted, endless corridors that used to lead me to wonderful and secret places. I close my eyes to listen the distant Schubert and frame these memories in a secure place that I call heart.
“For some nights I slept profoundly; but still every morning I felt the same lassitude, and a languor weighed upon me all day. I felt myself a changed girl. A strange melancholy was stealing over me, a melancholy that I would not have interrupted. Dim thoughts of death began to open, and an idea that I was slowly sinking took gentle, and, somehow, not unwelcome possession of me. If it was sad, the tone of mind which this induced was also sweet. Whatever it might be, my soul acquiesced in it.”
J. Sheridan Le Fanu
“On earth there is sadness inside of the beautiful things.”
Sophia de Mello Breyner Andersen
“Some women feel the need to act like they’re never scared, needy or hurt; like they’re as hardened as a man. I think that’s dishonest. It’s ok to feel delicate sometimes. Real beauty is in the fragility of your petals. A rose that never wilts isn’t a rose at all.”
“Beauty, the world seemed to say. And as if to prove it (scientifically) wherever he looked at the houses, at the railings, at the antelopes stretching over the palings, beauty sprang instantly. To watch a leaf quivering in the rush of air was an exquisite joy. Up in the sky swallows swooping, swerving, flinging themselves in and out, round and round, yet always with perfect control as if elastics held them; and the flies rising and falling; and the sun spotting now this leaf, now that, in mockery, dazzling it with soft gold in pure good temper; and now again some chime (it might be a motor horn) tinkling divinely on the grass stalks—all of this, calm and reasonable as it was, made out of ordinary things as it was, was the truth now; beauty, that was the truth now. Beauty was everywhere.”
Finally something inside of me, chaotic and good, allowed me to create these two postponed letters, like Friedrich Nietzsche would said: “You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.” So these are my freshly born dancing stars ready to reach my neglected pen pals.
I’ve finished to write Chiara’s letter.
“What is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.”
― Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse
“Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity, and I may say innocence, with Nature herself.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden