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Yes, she thought, laying down her brush in extreme fatigues, I have had my vision.
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
Extremes
Vision
Fatigues
Thought
Lighthouse
Laying
Brush
Fatigue
Brushes
Extreme
More quotes by Virginia Woolf
Peace was the third emotion. Love. Hate. Peace. Three emotions made the ply of human life.
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Thoughts without words… Can that be?
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But beauty must be broken daily to remain beautiful.
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I want to think quietly, calmly, spaciously, never to be interrupted, never to have to rise from my chair, to slip easily from one thing to another, without any sense of hostility, or obstacle. I want to sink deeper and deeper, away from the surface, with its hard separate facts.
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To want and not to have, sent all up her body a hardness, a hollowness, a strain. And then to want and not to have- to want and want- how that wrung the heart, and wrung it again and again!
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Once she knows how to read there's only one thing you can teach her to believe in and that is herself.
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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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... I doubt the capacity of the human animal for being dignified in ceremony.
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Death is woven in with the violets,” said Louis. “Death and again death.”)
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I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.
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One must love everything.
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We scarcely wish to analyse what we feel to be so large and deeply human.
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She had the perpetual sense, as she watched the taxi cabs, of being out, out, far out to sea and alone she always had the feeling that it was very, very, dangerous to live even one day.
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Life stand still here.
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He called her a melon, a pineapple, an olive tree, an emerald, and a fox in the snow all in the space of three seconds he did not know whether he had heard her, tasted her, seen her, or all three together.
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writing is the profound pleasure and being read the superficial.
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old emotions like old families have intermarried and have many connections.
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Words belong to each other.
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Truth had run through my fingers. Every drop had escaped.
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So coming back from a journey, or after an illness, before habits had spun themselves across the surface, one felt that same unreality, which was so startling felt something emerge. Life was most vivid then.
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