And though you may not love me as much, you do love me a little.
If this is not true, I will always be hopeful that it could be.
I adore you. -Frida”
Truth is, so great, that I wouldn’t like to speak, or sleep, or listen, or love.
To feel myself trapped, with no fear of blood, outside time and magic, within your own fear, and your great anguish, and within the very beating of your heart.
All this madness, if I asked it of you, I know, in your silence, there would be only confusion.
I ask you for violence, in the nonsense, and you, you give me grace, your light and your warmth.
I’d like to paint you, but there are no colors, because there are so many, in my confusion,
the tangible form of my great love.
"I don’t give a shit what the world thinks. I was born a bitch, I was born a painter, I was born fucked. But I was happy in my way. You did not understand what I am. I am love. I am pleasure, I am essence, I am an idiot, I am an alcoholic, I am tenacious. I am; simply I am…You are a shit."
- Frida Kahlo, from an unsent letter to Diego Rivera