Quote

Somewhere, everywhere, now hidden, now apparent in what ever is written down, is the form of a human being. If we seek to know him, are we idly occupied?

Virginia Woolf

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Virginia Woolf
Age: 59 †
Born: 1882
Born: January 25
Died: 1941
Died: March 28
Author
Autobiographer
Diarist
Essayist
Feminist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Publisher
Short Story Writer
Writer
London
England
Virxhinia Ulf
Virginia yo juanito Adeline Woolf
Virg̔inyah Vold
Virdžiniâ Vulf
Virdzhiniia Vulf
Virzhinia Ulf
Virginia Stephen
Virzhin︠iia Ulf
Adeline Virginia Stephen
Virginyah Volf
Adeline Virginia Woolf
Virginia Adeline Woolf
Adeline Virginia Stephen Woolf
Birtzinia Gulph
Virginia Stephen Woolf
Woolf
Virginia
1882-1941
Ever
Apparent
Human
Hidden
Humans
Everywhere
Book
Somewhere
Seek
Written
Reading
Idly
Form
Occupied

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Novels so often provide an anodyne and not an antidote, glide one into torpid slumbers instead of rousing one with a burning brand.
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To enjoy freedom ... we have of course to control ourselves. We must not squander our powers, helplessly and ignorantly, squirting half the house in order to water a single rose.
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Be truthful, and the result is bound to be amazingly interesting.
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You cannot find peace by avoiding life.
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The man who is aware of himself is henceforward independent and he is never bored, and life is only too short, and he is steeped through and through with a profound yet temperate happiness.
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For the eye has this strange property: it rests only on beauty.
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Communication is truth communication is happiness. To share is our duty to go down boldly and bring to light those hidden thoughts which are the most diseased to conceal nothing to pretend nothing if we are ignorant to say so if we love our friends to let them know it.
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They all dreamt of each other that night, as was natural, considering how thin the partitions were between them, and how strangely they had been lifted off the earth to sit next each other in mid-ocean, and see every detail of each others' faces, and hear whatever they chanced to say.
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We seem to be riding on the top of the highest mast of the tallest ship and yet at the same time we know that nothing of this sort matters love is not proved thus, nor great achievements completed thus so that we sport with the moment and preen our feathers in it lightly.
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Human beings have neither kindness, nor faith, nor charity beyond what serves to increase the pleasure of the moment.
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I feel so intensely the delights of shutting oneself up in a little world of one’s own, with pictures and music and everything beautiful.
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Life's bare as a bone.
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When people are happy they have a reserve upon which to draw, whereas she was like a wheel without a tyre
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When I am grown up I shall carry a notebook—a fat book with many pages, methodically lettered. I shall enter my phrases.
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So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say.
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It is the duty of the writer to describe.
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You have been in every way all that anyone could be.... If anybody could have saved me it would have been you.
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She came into a room she stood, as he had often seen her, in a doorway with lots of people round her. But it was Clarissa one remembered. Not that she was striking not beautiful at all there was nothing picturesque about her she never said anything specially clever there she was however there she was.
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Arrange whatever pieces come your way.
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... the random talk of people who have no chance of immortality and thus can speak their minds out has a setting, often, of lights, streets, houses, human beings, beautiful or grotesque, which will weave itself into the moment for ever.
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