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To whom can I expose the urgency of my own passion?…There is nobody—here among these grey arches, and moaning pigeons, and cheerful games and tradition and emulation, all so skilfully organised to prevent feeling alone.

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
Feeling
Cheerful
Skilfully
Games
Grey
Emulation
Feelings
Prevent
Moaning
Tradition
Arches
Among
Organised
Nobody
Pigeons
Alone
Expose
Passion
Urgency

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No passion is stronger in the breast of man than the desire to make others believe as he believes
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Each had his own business to think of. Each had his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends could only read the title.
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The melancholy river bears us on. When the moon comes through the trailing willow boughs, I see your face, I hear your voice and the bird singing as we pass the osier bed. What are you whispering? Sorrow, sorrow. Joy, joy. Woven together, like reeds in moonlight.
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Life piles up so fast that I have no time to write out the equally fast rising mound of reflections.
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The history of most women is hidden either by silence, or by flourishes and ornaments that amount to silence.
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war is a man's game ... the killing machine has a gender and it is male.
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For there is a virtue in truth it has an almost mystic power. Like radium, it seems to give off forever and ever grains of energy, atoms of light.
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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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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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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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I am reading six books at once, the only way of reading since, as you will agree, one book is only a single unaccompanied note, and to get the full sound, one needs ten others at the same time.
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