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Did it matter then, she asked herself, walking towards Bond Street, did it matter that she must inevitably cease completely? All this must go on without her did she resent it or did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely?

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
Matter
Absolutely
Consoling
Must
Completely
Resent
Believe
Asked
Inevitably
Walking
Bond
Streets
Ended
Death
Cease
Become
Towards
Without
Street

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She felt, with her hand on the nursery door, that community of feeling with other people which emotion gives as if the walls of partition had become so thin that practically (the feeling was one of relief and happiness) it was all one stream.
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If we didn't live venturously, plucking the wild goat by the beard, and trembling over precipices, we should never be depressed, I've no doubt but already should be faded, fatalistic and aged.
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That would be a glorious life, to addict oneself to perfection to follow the curve of the sentence wherever it might lead, into deserts, under drifts of sand, regardless of lures, of seductions to be poor always and unkempt to be ridiculous in Piccadilly.
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I always had the deepest affection for people who carried sublime tears in their silences.
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He began to search among the infinite series of impressions which time had laid down, leaf upon leaf, fold upon fold softly, incessantly upon his brain among scents, sounds voices, harsh, hollow, sweet and lights passing, and brooms tapping and the wash and hush of the sea.
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Only longing can fill with more of itself.
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Women and fiction remain, so far as I am concerned, unsolved problems.
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The most important thing is not to think very much about oneself. To investigate candidly the charge but not fussily, not very anxiously. On no account to retaliate by going to the other extreme -- thinking too much.
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I am overwhelmed with things I ought to have written about and never found the proper words.
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Indeed there has never been any explanation of the ebb and flow in our veins--of happiness and unhappiness.
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My mind turned by anxiety, or other cause, from its scrutiny of blank paper, is like a lost child–wandering the house, sitting on the bottom step to cry.
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and even a tea party means apprehension, breakage
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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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Finally, I would thank, had I not lost his name and address, a gentleman in America, who has generously and gratuitously corrected the punctuation, the botany, the entomology, the geography, and the chronology of previous works of mine and will, I hope, not spare his services on the present occasion.
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If people are highly successful in their profession they lose their senses. Sight goes. They have no time to look at pictures. Sound goes. They have no time to listen to music. Speech goes. They have no time for conversation. They lose their sense of proportion.
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I like the unreality of your mind the whole thing is very splendid and voluptuous and absurd.
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It is permissible even for a dying hero to think before he dies how men will speak of him hereafter. His fame lasts perhaps two thousand years. And what are two thousand years?... What, indeed, if you look from a mountain top down the long wastes of the ages? The very stone one kicks with one's boot will outlast Shakespeare.
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For beyond the difficulty of communicating oneself, there is the supreme difficulty of being oneself.
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He was a thorough good sort a bit limited a bit thick in the head yes but a thorough good sort. Whatever he took up he did in the same matter-of-fact sensible way without a touch of imagination, without a sparkle of brilliancy, but with the inexplicable niceness of his type.
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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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