Quote

If the best of one's feelings means nothing to the person most concerned in those feelings, what reality is left us?

Virginia Woolf

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

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
Feelings
Reality
Persons
Best
Person
Nothing
Concerned
Mean
Means
Left

More quotes by Virginia Woolf

Image
There was no freedom in life, and certainly there was none in death.
Virginia Woolf
Image
As I grow old I hate the writing of letters more and more, and like getting them better and better.
Virginia Woolf
Image
As a creator of character his peculiarity is that he creates wherever his eyes rest ... With such a power at his command Dickens made his books blaze up, not by tightening the plot or sharpening the wit, but by throwing another handful of people upon the fire.
Virginia Woolf
Image
I am tied down with single words. But you wander off you slip away you rise up higher, with words and words in phrases.
Virginia Woolf
Image
The truer the facts the better the fiction.
Virginia Woolf
Image
When I am grown up I shall carry a notebook—a fat book with many pages, methodically lettered. I shall enter my phrases.
Virginia Woolf
Image
I want the concentration and the romance, and the worlds all glued together, fused, glowing: have no time to waste any more on prose.
Virginia Woolf
Image
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
Image
Thinking is my fighting.
Virginia Woolf
Image
Why, he wondered, did people who had been asleep always want to make out that they were extremely wide-awake?
Virginia Woolf
Image
The root of things, what they were all afraid of saying, was that happiness is dirt cheap. You can have it for nothing. Beauty.
Virginia Woolf
Image
For if Chloe likes Olivia and Mary Carmichael knows how to express it she will light a torch in that vast chamber where nobody has yet been.
Virginia Woolf
Image
The most important thing is not to think very much about oneself. To investigate candidly the charge but not fussily, not very anxiously. On no account to retaliate by going to the other extreme -- thinking too much.
Virginia Woolf
Image
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
Image
If you insist upon fighting to protect me, or 'our' country, let it be understood soberly and rationally between us that you are fighting to gratify a sex instinct which I cannot share to procure benefits where I have not shared and probably will not share.
Virginia Woolf
Image
Like most uneducated Englishwomen, I like reading--I like reading books in the bulk.
Virginia Woolf
Image
Never are voices so beautiful as on a winter's evening, when dusk almost hides the body, and they seem to issue from nothingness with a note of intimacy seldom heard by day.
Virginia Woolf
Image
One likes people much better when they're battered down by a prodigious siege of misfortune than when they triumph.
Virginia Woolf
Image
For pleasure has no relish unless we share it.
Virginia Woolf
Image
... the random talk of people who have no chance of immortality and thus can speak their minds out has a setting, often, of lights, streets, houses, human beings, beautiful or grotesque, which will weave itself into the moment for ever.
Virginia Woolf