Quote

I do think all good and evil comes from words. I have to tune myself into a good temper with something musical, and I run to a book as a child to its mother.

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
Think
Words
Thinking
Comes
Running
Tune
Mother
Tunes
Book
Temper
Children
Musical
Something
Child
Good
Evil

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Literature is strewn with the wreckage of men who have minded beyond reason the opinions of others.
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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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You can't think how I depend on you, and when you're not there the colour goes out of my life.
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Theories then are dangerous things.
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Mental fight means thinking against the current, not with it. It is our business to puncture gas bags and discover seeds of truth.
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Our apparitions, the things you know us by, are simply childish. Beneath it is all dark, it is all spreading, it is unfathomably deep but now and again we rise to the surface and that is what you see us by.
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Words belong to each other.
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I will achieve in my life - Heaven grant that it be not long - some gigantic amalgamation between the two discrepancies so hideously apparent to me. Out of my suffering I will do it. I will knock. I will enter.
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I will dream today for I must unscrew my head somehow.
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He lay on his chair with his hands clasped above his paunch not reading, or sleeping, but basking like a creature gorged with existence.
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To sit and contemplate - to remember the faces of women without desire, to be pleased by the great deeds of men without envy, to be everything and everywhere in sympathy and yet content to remain where and what you are.
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I am in the mood to dissolve in the sky.
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He who robs us of our dreams robs us of our life.
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But our hatred is almost indistinguishable from our love.
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She had read a wonderful play about a man who scratched on the wall of his cell and she had felt that was true of life — one scratched on the wall.
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She was like a crinkled poppy with the desire to drink dry dust.
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Like a ghostly roll of drums remorselessly beat the measure of life.
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I was in a queer mood, thinking myself very old: but now I am a woman again - as I always am when I write.
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If the best of one's feelings means nothing to the person most concerned in those feelings, what reality is left us?
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There was no freedom in life, and certainly there was none in death.
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