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And the poem, I think, is only your voice speaking.
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
Poem
Speaking
Voice
Think
Thinking
More quotes by Virginia Woolf
I feel my brains, like a pear, to see if it's ripe it will be exquisite by September.
Virginia Woolf
A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.
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The first duty of a lecturer: to hand you after an hour's discourse a nugget of pure truth to wrap up between the pages of your notebooks, and keep on the mantelpiece forever.
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Oh, I am in love with life!
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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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But Sasha who after all had no English blood in her but was from Russia where the sunsets are longer, the dawns less sudden, and sentences often left unfinished from doubt as to how best to end them.
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And it was awfully strange, he thought, how she still had the power, as she came tinkling, rustling, still had the power as she came across the room, to make the moon, which he detested, rise at Bourton on the terrace in the summer sky.
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Venerable are letters, infinitely brave, forlorn, and lost.
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I'm terrified of passive acquiescence. I live in intensity.
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As for my next book, I won't write it till it has grown heavy in my mind like a ripe pear pendant, gravid, asking to be cut or it will fall.
Virginia Woolf
Her life was a tissue of vanity and deceit.
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Wine has a drastic, an astringent taste. I cannot help wincing as I drink. Ascent of flowers, radiance and heat, are distilled here to a fiery, yellow liquid. Just behind my shoulder-blades some dry thing, wide-eyed, gently closes, gradually lulls itself to sleep. This is rapture. This is relief.
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Like most uneducated Englishwomen, I like reading--I like reading books in the bulk.
Virginia Woolf
How far we are going to read a poet when we can read about a poet is a problem to lay before biographers.
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I begin to long for some little language such as lovers use, broken words, inarticulate words, like the shuffling of feet on pavement.
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You would get longer livelier and more frequent letters from me, if it weren't for the Christian religion. How that bell tolling at the end of the garden, dum dum, dum dum, annoys me! Why is Christianity so insistent and so sad?
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Without self awareness we are as babies in the cradles.
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And you wish to be a poet and you wish to be a lover.
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I feel that by writing I am doing what is far more necessary than anything else.
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Writing is still like heaving bricks over a wall.
Virginia Woolf
