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It was odd, she thought, how if one was alone, one leant to inanimate things trees, streams, flowers felt they expressed one felt they became one felt they knew one, in a sense were one felt an irrational tenderness thus (she looked at that long steady light) as for oneself.

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
Felt
Oneself
Tenderness
Light
Became
Irrational
Thought
Looked
Odd
Long
Flower
Steady
Things
Tree
Streams
Knew
Flowers
Leant
Alone
Trees
Inanimate
Sense
Thus
Expressed

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Once you fall, Septimus repeated to himself, human nature is on you. Holmes and Bradshaw are on you. They scour the desert. They fly screaming into the wilderness. The rack and the thumbscrew are applied. Human nature is remorseless.
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The very stone one kicks with one's boot will outlast Shakespeare.
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I am tied down with single words. But you wander off you slip away you rise up higher, with words and words in phrases.
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Speech is an old torn net, through which the fish escape as one casts it over them.
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A good essay must have this permanent quality about it it must draw its curtain round us, but it must be a curtain that shuts us in not out.
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They say the sky is the same everywhere. Travellers, the shipwrecked, exiles, and the dying draw comfort from the thought.
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On or about December 1910, human character changed.
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Do not move, do not go. Sink within this moment. Hold it for ever.
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Most of a modest woman's life was spent, after all, in denying what, in one day at least of every year, was made obvious.
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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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Venerable are letters, infinitely brave, forlorn, and lost. Life would split asunder without them. 'Come to tea, come to dinner, what's the truth of the story? have you heard the news? life in the capital is wonderful the Russian dancers....' These are our stays and props. These lace our days together and make of life a perfect globe.
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A self that goes on changing is a self that goes on living.
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They went in and out of each other's minds without any effort.
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These are the soul's changes. I don't believe in ageing. I believe in forever altering one's aspect to the sun. Hence my optimism.
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A woman knows very well that, though a wit sends her his poems, praises her judgment, solicits her criticism, and drinks her tea, this by no means signifies that he respects her opinions, admires her understanding, or will refuse, though the rapier is denied him, to run through the body with his pen.
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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.
Virginia Woolf
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At last she shut the book sharply, lay back, and drew a deep breath, expressive of the wonder which always marks the transition from the imaginary world to the real world.
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I grow numb I grow stiff. How shall I break up this numbness which discredits my sympathetic heart?
Virginia Woolf
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...she always had the feeling that it was very, very dangerous to live even one day.
Virginia Woolf
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But nevertheless, the fact remained, it was almost impossible to dislike anyone if one looked at them.
Virginia Woolf