"26 December. Being alone has a power over me that never fails. My interior dissolves and is ready to release what lies deeper."
Franz Kafka, from Diaries (via kafkaesque-world)
"Holidays are very upsetting. And it’s cold. And my hand shakes. And then the usual depressions come. And I wish for death. But: ash coloured houses with green doors. Smell of coffee roasting. What would the writing of a complete drunkard be?"
Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry featured in The Complete Works of Virginia Woolf; Selected Diaries (via violentwavesofemotion)
