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Green in nature is one thing, green in literature another. Nature and letters seem to have a natural antipathy bring them together and they tear each other to pieces.

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
Nature
Green
Seems
Tears
Together
Seem
Thing
Pieces
Bring
Literature
Antipathy
Natural
Tear
Another
Letters

More quotes by Virginia Woolf

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The most extraordinary thing about writing is that when you've struck the right vein, tiredness goes. It must be an effort, thinking wrong.
Virginia Woolf
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For such will be our ruin if you, in the immensity of your public abstractions, forget the private figure, or if we in the intensity of our private emotions forget the public world. Both houses will be ruined, the public and the private, the material and the spiritual, for they are inseparably connected.
Virginia Woolf
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Ruin, weariness, death, perpetually death, stand grimly to confront the other presence of Elizabethan drama which is life: life compact of frigates, fir trees and ivory, of dolphins and the juice of July flowers, of the milk of unicorns and panthers’ breath, of ropes of pearl, brains of peacocks and Cretan wine.
Virginia Woolf
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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.
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Vain trifles as they seem, clothes have, they say, more important offices than to merely keep us warm. They change our view of the world and the world's view of us.
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O why do I ever let anyone read what I write! Every time I have to go through a breakfast with a letter of criticism I swear I will write for my own praise or blame in future. It is a misery.
Virginia Woolf
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He looked very old. He looked, James thought, getting his head now against the Lighthouse, now against the waste of waters running away into the open, like some old stone lying on the sand he looked as if he had become physically what was always at the back of both of their minds-that loneliness which was for both of them the truth about things.
Virginia Woolf
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For nothing was simply one thing.
Virginia Woolf
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I want to write a novel about Silence, he said “the things people don’t say.
Virginia Woolf
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When the shriveled skin of the ordinary is stuffed out with meaning, it satisfies the senses amazingly.
Virginia Woolf
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Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.
Virginia Woolf
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Am I alone in my egotism when I say that never does the pale light of dawn filter through the blinds of 52 Tavistock Square but I open my eyes and exclaim, Good God! Here I am again! not always with pleasure, often with pain sometimes in a spasm.
Virginia Woolf
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About here, she thought, dabbling her fingers in the water, a ship had sunk, and she muttered, dreamily half asleep, how we perished, each alone.
Virginia Woolf
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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.
Virginia Woolf
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The sea was indistinguishable from the sky, except that the sea was slightly creased as if a cloth had wrinkles in it.
Virginia Woolf
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Long ago I realized that no other person would be to me what you are.
Virginia Woolf
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I enjoy the spring more than the autumn now. One does, I think, as one gets older.
Virginia Woolf
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There was a star riding through clouds one night, & I said to the star, 'Consume me'.
Virginia Woolf
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Yield to that strange passion which sends you madly whirling round the room.
Virginia Woolf
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Never let anybody guess that you have a mind of your own. Above all be pure
Virginia Woolf