As a recorder and curator of my own life, I feel a kinship with the diarists—their impulse to pay attention, capture passing moments and put life into words. They inspire me to notice more, reflect more deeply and preserve something of our brief time here. A life noticed, cherished and remembered.
Samuel Pepys
Samuel Pepys (1633–1703) was an English naval administrator who kept his famous diary for just over nine years, from January 1660 to May 1669. It captures an extraordinary period of history—the restoration of Charles II, the Great Plague and the Great Fire of London—alongside the everyday details of his marriage, meals, friendships and pleasures.
What inspires me is his realness. Pepys records his vanities, jealousies and extramarital affairs with remarkable candour, leaving a portrait full of flaws and contradictions. There’s something compelling about that willingness to put his imperfect self on the page. I’m also drawn to the combination of the intimate and the historic: one person’s private life unfolding within the great events of his time. It inspires me to record both my own small world and the wider world moving around it.
I’m also drawn to the private nature of his diary. Pepys wrote in shorthand, mixing languages to conceal some of his most intimate passages, and wasn’t writing for publication in his lifetime. To me, that speaks to the intrinsic value of keeping a diary: the satisfaction of capturing experience, reflecting on it and preserving it for oneself. The act itself is worthwhile, whether anyone else ever reads it or not.
“My own private condition very handsome, and esteemed rich, but indeed very poor”
"but Lord, to see with what envy they looked upon all my fine plate was pleasant.”
Anaïs Nin
Anaïs Nin (1903–1977) began her diary in 1914, aged eleven, and continued for more than sixty years, until her death. It became an extraordinary lifelong undertaking, filling thousands of pages and eventually appearing in numerous volumes—a record of relationships, creativity and an intensely explored inner life.
What inspires me is the intimacy: the willingness to explore feelings, desires and contradictions that so often remain hidden. I’m drawn to the idea of a diary as a place to discover oneself, to give attention to dreams and passing emotions, and to find meaning through writing. Her lifelong commitment inspires me too. Over time, individual entries become something remarkable: a portrait of a person continually changing, discovering and becoming.
“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection.”
“This diary is my kief, hashish, and opium pipe. This is my drug and my vice.”
Virginia Woolf
Virginia Woolf (1882–1941) began keeping a diary as a teenager. Her adult diaries span 1915 to 1941, published in five volumes that bring together daily life, friendships, reflections and the unfolding of her work as a novelist. They offer an intimate portrait of a wonderfully observant mind.
What inspires me is her close attention to her own inner life—the shifting moods, doubts and moments of clarity. Her struggles with mental illness make that self-exploration especially poignant, as does her persistence in creating through periods of difficulty. I’m also drawn to her sensitivity to everyday experience: how a walk, a conversation or a fleeting impression can become material for reflection and art. She inspires me to look more closely at both the world around me and the world within, and to give those observations a place on the page.
Happily I’m interested in depression; and make myself play a game of assembling the fractured pieces.”
“not to play the part of censor, but to write as the mood comes or of anything whatever.”
Andy Warhol
Andy Warhol (1928–1987) kept his diaries in an unusual way: through regular morning phone calls to his friend and collaborator Pat Hackett, recounting the previous day. Spanning November 1976 to February 1987, they were edited by Hackett and published after his death. They capture a decade of his life, from celebrity encounters and artistic milestones to taxi fares, meals and everyday worries.
What inspires me is his keen observation and his attention to daily minutiae alongside the big events. Small details give a life its texture, and often become fascinating with time. I’m also drawn to the vulnerability beneath his public image—the doubts and longing that make him recognisably human. His diaries inspire me to preserve the seemingly ordinary, too: who I saw, what caught my eye, how a day felt. We can’t always know which details we’ll treasure later.
“Stayed till 3:00, too many people coming up to me to talk (cab $8).”
“I’ve got these desperate feelings that nothing means anything.”
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| An excellent documentary I watched recently |
Anne Frank
Anne Frank (1929–1945) began her diary on her thirteenth birthday in June 1942. Over the next two years, much of them spent hiding from Nazi persecution in Amsterdam, she recorded her fears, frustrations, relationships and hopes for the future. Her final entry was written on 1 August 1944, three days before her arrest. Published after her death, her diary became one of the most powerful personal testimonies of the Holocaust.
I visited the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam in 1997 and was so moved that I spent much of my time there with tears streaming down my face. What inspires me is her humanity: her honesty about her feelings, her desire to understand herself, and her capacity to keep dreaming amid fear and confinement. She wanted to become a writer, and her words have reached far beyond the life she was allowed to live. For me, her diary is a profound reminder of what recording a life can preserve: a unique voice, an inner world, a person we can still feel close to across time.
“When I write I can shake off all my cares. My sorrow disappears, my spirits are revived!”
Henry David Thoreau
Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862) kept his journal from 1837 to 1861, filling almost fifty notebooks with observations from his walks, encounters with neighbours, reading and reflections. It became a remarkable record of both the natural world and his inner life, and a source for his books and essays.
What inspires me is his attention. Birds, changing seasons, the details of a familiar landscape—there was always something more to notice. That speaks directly to my love of walking and photography, and my desire to capture the things that fill me with wonder. His example reminds me that keeping a journal can enrich the experience itself: knowing I want to remember a day encourages me to be more present to it. There is so much to discover when we take the time to look.
“My Journal should be the record of my love.”
“The question is not what you look at, but what you see.”
May Sarton
May Sarton (1912–1995) was a poet, novelist and diarist whose journals explored solitude, creativity, ageing and the rhythms of everyday life. In Journal of a Solitude, she brings together her garden, the seasons, books and relationships with a deeply personal account of her emotional and spiritual life.
What inspires me is her honesty about the challenges of being alone, even when solitude is something she treasures. Her appreciation of beauty sits alongside loneliness, frustration and self-doubt. I’m drawn to that openness, and to the nourishment she finds in gardening, writing and small daily pleasures. She reminds me that a life worth recording includes the difficult days too, and that reflection can help us understand what sustains us.
“I have written every poem, every novel, for the same purpose — to find out what I think, to know where I stand.”
“I am here alone for the first time in weeks, to take up my ‘real’ life again at last.”
