“… The feeling in me is strong now—that it is the Lawrencian desire to alter men which causes more havoc than good. It is blindly egotistical and neurotic. I notice that the desire to reform moves man away from his neighbor, and not towards him. It leads to isolation. To concern for the self. When one has grown utterly weary of trying to aid men one returns to the flock and then one really aids—just by his presence, because then the sum of experiences, of suffering, of self-analysis and soul-struggle have mellowed the individual and he can aid because he speaks and moves out of a ripe, conscious wisdom—not through precepts, ideas, formulas. I’m thinking that perhaps the root of all dissension between “friends” (subject so engrossing to Lawrence and Duhamel) is the quality of idealism contained in it. It is again a too sacred, too private, too isolated thing. Pure love, pure friendship—these are ideals. They may exist now and then, and they are beautiful things to behold. But they are not goals. They are phenomenal and accidental. They should be regarded as one regards the phenomena of Nature—Mont Blanc, Niagara Falls, the great caves etc. One should go to them for rest or inspiration. Not to dwell there.”
— Henry Miller, A Literate Passion
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“You are testing my courage to the full, like a torturer. How to extricate myself from this nightmare? I have only one source of strength (humanly, I have no strength), I have only writing, and it is this which I am doing now with a desperation you can never conceive of— I am writing against myself, against what you call my imperfections, against the woman, against my humaneness, against the continents which are giving way.”
—
Anais Nin to Henry Miller
A Literate Passion
~August 30, 1932
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NEW YORK "A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller"
I’m in love with N.Y. It matches my mood. I’m not overwhelmed. It is the suitable scene for my ever ever heightened life. I love the proportions, the amplitude, the brilliance, the polish, the solidity. I look up at Radio City insolently and love it. It is all great, and Babylonian. Broadway at night. Cellophane. The newness. The vitality. True, it is only physical. But it’s inspiring. Just bring your own contents, and you create a sparkle of the highest power. I’m not moved, not speechless. I stand straight, tough, and I meet the impact. I feel the glow and the dancing in everything. The radio music in the taxis, scientific magic, which can all be used lyrically. That’s my last word. Give New York to a poet. He can use it. It can be poetized. Or maybe that’s a mania of mine, to poetize. I live lightly, smoothly, actively, ears and eyes wide open, alert, oiled! I feel a kind of exhilaration and the tempo is like that of my blood. I’m at once beyond, over and in New York, tasting it fully.
A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller, 1932–1953
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The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself”
— ― Henry Miller
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I have no power over your voice. It comes straight from you to me. I could stuff my ears and it would find its way into my blood and make it rise.
Anaïs Nin, A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller
