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It was a silly, silly dream, being unhappy.
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
Unhappy
Dream
Silly
More quotes by Virginia Woolf
There is no room for the impurities of literature in an essay.
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I want to write a novel about Silence, he said “the things people don’t say.
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I got out this diary, & read as one always does read one's own writing, with a kind of guilty intensity.
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What does the brain matter compared with the heart?
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I am writing to a rhythm and not to a plot.
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I see through most people I'm hardly ever wrong. I see at once what they've got in them.
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There is no doubt in my mind, that I have found out how to begin (at 40) to say something in my own voice.
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for it was not knowledge but unity that she desired, not inscriptions on tablets, nothing that could be written in any language known to men, but intimacy itself, which is knowledge
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every secret of a writer's soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind is written large in his works, yet we require critics to explain the one and biographers to expound the other. That time hangs heavy on people's hands is the only explanation of the monstrous growth.
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What could be more serious than the love of man for woman, what more commanding, more impressive, bearing in its bosom the seeds of death at the same time these lovers, these people entering into illusion glittering eyed, must be danced round with mockery, decorated with garlands.
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The world has raised its whip where will it descend?
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One likes people much better when they're battered down by a prodigious siege of misfortune than when they triumph.
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Only longing can fill with more of itself.
Virginia Woolf
The world is crammed with delightful things
Virginia Woolf
Brooding, she changed the pool into the sea, and made the minnows into sharks and whales, and cast vast clouds over this tiny world by holding her hand against the sun, and so brought darkness and desolation, like God himself, to millions of ignorant and innocent creatures, and then took her hand away suddenly and let the sun stream down.
Virginia Woolf
Why does one write these books after all? The drudgery, the misery, the grind, are forgotten everytime and one launches another, and it seems sheer joy and buoyancy.
Virginia Woolf
Habits and customs are a convenience devised for the support of timid natures who dare not allow their souls free play.
Virginia Woolf
literature is the record of our discontent.
Virginia Woolf
Life piles up so fast that I have no time to write out the equally fast rising mound of reflections.
Virginia Woolf
if newspapers were written by people whose sole object in writing was to tell the truth about politics and the truth about art we should not believe in war, and we should believe in art.
Virginia Woolf