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As long as she thinks of a man, nobody objects to a woman thinking.
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
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Men
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More quotes by Virginia Woolf
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.
Virginia Woolf
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.
Virginia Woolf
If we face the fact, for it is a fact, that there is no arm to cling to, but that we go alone and that our relation is to the world of reality and not only to the world of men and women.
Virginia Woolf
Women have served all these centuries as looking glasses possessing the power of reflecting the figure of man at twice its natural size.
Virginia Woolf
What has praise and fame to do with poetry? Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice answering a voice? So that all this chatter and praise, and blame and meeting people who admired one and meeting people who did not admire one was as ill suited as could be to the thing itself- a voice answering a voice.
Virginia Woolf
What is this terror? what is this ecstasy? he thought to himself. What is it that fills me with this extraordinary excitement? It is Clarissa, he said. For there she was.
Virginia Woolf
Does housekeeping interest you at all? I think it really ought to be just as good as writing and I never see where the separation between the too comes in. At least if you must put books on one side and life on the other, each is a poor and bloodless thing but my theory is that they mix indistinguishable.
Virginia Woolf
The connection between dress and war is not far to seek your finest clothes are those you wear as soldiers.
Virginia Woolf
Women have sat indoors all these millions of years, so that by this time the very walls are permeated by their creative force, which has, indeed, so overcharged the capacity of bricks and mortar that it must needs harness itself to pens and brushes and business and politics.
Virginia Woolf
Come indoors then, and open the books on your library shelves. For you have a library and a good one. A working library, a living library a library where nothing is chained down and nothing is locked up a library where the songs of the singers rise naturally from the lives of the livers.
Virginia Woolf
Peter would think her sentimental. So she was. For she had come to feel that it was the only thing worth saying – what one felt. Cleverness was silly. One must say simply what one felt.
Virginia Woolf
I detest the masculine point of view. I am bored by his heroism, virtue, and honour. I think the best these men can do is not talk about themselves anymore.
Virginia Woolf
I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire for something beyond the daily life.
Virginia Woolf
Would there be trees if we didn't see them?
Virginia Woolf
Am I a weed, carried this way, that way, on a tide that comes twice a day without a meaning?
Virginia Woolf
I’m not clear enough in the head to feel anything but varieties of dull anger and arrows of sadness.
Virginia Woolf
I find that when I've seen a certain number of people my mind becomes like an old match box -- the part one strikes on, I mean.
Virginia Woolf
Life piles up so fast that I have no time to write out the equally fast rising mound of reflections.
Virginia Woolf
The real novelist, the perfectly simple human being, could go on, indefinitely imaging.
Virginia Woolf
She fell into a deep pool of sticky water, which eventually closed over her head. She saw nothing and heard nothing but a faint booming sound, which was the sound of the sea rolling over her head. While all her tormentors thought that she was dead, she was not dead, but curled up at the bottom of the sea.
Virginia Woolf
