Salvador Dali ~ On Surrealism
“Surrealism is destructive, but it destroys only what it considers to be shackles limiting our vision.”
― Salvador Dalí

Salvador Dalí, painting The Temptation of St. Anthony, 1946
Thomas Mann ~ On Life
"And for its part, what was life? Was it perhaps only an infectious disease of matter—just as the so-called spontaneous generation of matter was perhaps only an illness, a cancerous stimulation of the immaterial?"
— Thomas Mann, The Magic Mountain
Edith Wharton ~ Seeing Yourself In Your Own Thoughts
"Can you imagine looking into your glass some morning and seeing a disfigurement - some hideous change that has come to you while you slept? Well, I seem to myself like that - I can't bear to see myself in my own thoughts - I hate ugliness, you know - I've always turned from it - but I can't explain to you - you wouldn't understand." (I. xiv)
The House of Mirth, 1905
Edith Wharton
The House of Mirth (1905) is a novel by Edith Wharton. First published in 1905, the novel is Wharton's first important work of fiction. It sold 140,000 copies between October and the end of December, and added to Wharton's existing fortune. The House of Mirth was written while Edith Wharton lived at Tht,e Moun her home in Lenox, Massachusetts.

Although The House of Mirth is written in the style of a novel of manners, set against the backdrop of the 1890s New York aristocracy, it is considered American literary naturalism. Wharton places her tragic heroine, Lily Bart, in a society that she describes as a "hot-house of traditions and conventions.  Source Wikipedia

Original Illustrations (1905)
Dorothea Tanning ~ On Art
"Art has always been the raft onto which we climb to save our sanity"
Dorothea Tanning

Some Roses and their Phantoms, 1952
Dorothea Tanning
With The Rain (a Requiem) ~ Poem By William (chili) Gonzalez
Let me sleep
Leave me be
Let my eyes close
Leave my soul to fade away, forever more
Let me rest in peace
Leave my blood to freeze
Let me travel to the unknown
Leave the body; it’s just flesh and bone
Let my spirit wander in darkness
Leave memories of past in fondness
Burn this coffin, for I am not there
This burden is not for you to bear
Do not lament or shed tears
When serenity comes, I will be near
When you are lonely in silence of night
I will embrace you with all of my might
I will finally be at peace, no pain
How I will miss you, my tears will come with the rain
I am the air and the fog
Take a deep breath, I will feel your heart call
You are not alone, this you must remember
I will always remain, like a dying fire’s ember
In a place of tranquility. Taken away too soon (?)
Do not fear what is in store, what the future holds, do not feel gloom
Night falls again, I walk in the obscure
Never ending love / forever pure
In Memoria M.T.A
William (Chili) Gonzalez
Anton Chekhov ~ On Life
"There will come a time when everybody will know why, for what purpose, there is all this suffering, and there will be no more mysteries. But now we must live."
—Anton Chekhov, The Three Sisters
Edith Wharton ~ Inner Isolation
“She felt a stealing sense of fatigue as she walked; the sparkle had died out of her, and the taste of life was stale on her lips. She hardly knew what she had been seeking, or why the failure to find it had so blotted the light from her sky: she was only aware of a vague sense of failure, of an inner isolation deeper than the loneliness about her.”
Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth

Edith Wharton, 1905
Ivan Turgenev ~ Games Of The Mind
“Moreover, probably owing to excessive self-consciousness, perhaps as the result of the generally unfortunate cast of my personality, there existed between my thoughts and feelings, and the expression of those feelings and thoughts, a sort of inexplicable, irrational, and utterly insuperable barrier; and whenever I made up my mind to overcome this obstacle by force, to break down this barrier, my gestures, the expression of my face, my whole being, took on an appearance of painful constraint. I not only seemed, I positively became unnatural and affected. I was conscious of this myself, and hastened to shrink back into myself. Then a terrible commotion was set up within me. I analysed myself to the last thread, compared myself with others, recalled the slightest glances, smiles, words of the people to whom I had tried to open myself out, put the worst construction on everything, laughed vindictively at my own pretensions to 'be like every one else,'—and suddenly, in the midst of my laughter, collapsed utterly into gloom, sank into absurd dejection, and then began again as before—went round and round, in fact, like a squirrel on its wheel. Whole days were spent in this harassing, fruitless exercise.”
― Ivan Turgenev, Diary of a Superfluous Man
Mikhail Bulgakov ~ The Eyes And The Truth
“The tongue can conceal the truth, but the eyes never! You're asked an unexpected question, you don't even flinch, it takes just a second to get yourself under control, you know just what you have to say to hide the truth, and you speak very convincingly, and nothing in your face twitches to give you away. But the truth, alas, has been disturbed by the question, and it rises up from the depths of your soul to flicker in your eyes and all is lost.”
― Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita
Anton Chekhov ~ Human Relations
"There should be more sincerity and heart in human relations, more silence and simplicity in our interactions. Be rude when you’re angry, laugh when something is funny, and answer when you’re asked.”
Anton Chekhov