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And again she felt alone in the presence of her old antagonist, life.
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
Life
Antagonist
Presence
Alone
Literature
Felt
More quotes by Virginia Woolf
I like to have space to spread my mind out in.
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.
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Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end.
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After all, what is a lovely phrase? One that has mopped up as much Truth as it can hold.
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To depend upon a profession is a less odious form of slavery than to depend upon a father.
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Venerable are letters, infinitely brave, forlorn, and lost.
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Peace was the third emotion. Love. Hate. Peace. Three emotions made the ply of human life.
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I begin to long for some little language such as lovers use, broken words, inarticulate words, like the shuffling of feet on pavement.
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I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.
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more and more I come to loathe any dominion of one over another any leadership, any imposition of the will.
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Middlemarch, the magnificent book which with all its imperfections is one of the few English novels for grown-up people.
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Theories then are dangerous things.
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Yield to that strange passion which sends you madly whirling round the room.
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The depths of the sea are only water after all.
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But beauty must be broken daily to remain beautiful.
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I will not be famous, great. I will go on adventuring, changing, opening my mind and my eyes, refusing to be stamped and stereotyped. The thing is to free one's self: to let it find its dimensions, not be impeded.
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Safe! safe! safe!' the pulse of the house beats wildly. Waking, I cry 'Oh, is this your buried treasure? The light in the heart.
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I am made and remade continually. Different people draw different words from me.
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The streets of London have their map, but our passions are uncharted. What are you going to meet if you turn this corner?
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Our apparitions, the things you know us by, are simply childish. Beneath it is all dark, it is all spreading, it is unfathomably deep but now and again we rise to the surface and that is what you see us by.
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