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For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think well not even to think. To be silent to be 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
Felt
Wells
Well
Solemnity
Need
Solitude
Needs
Silent
Even
Anybody
Think
Alone
Thinking
Often
More quotes by Virginia Woolf
Lord, how tired one gets of one's own writing.
Virginia Woolf
Oh, but she never wanted James to grow a day older or Cam either. These two she would have liked to keep for ever just as the way they were, demons of wickedness, angels of delight, never to see them grow up into long-legged monsters.
Virginia Woolf
A perfect treat must include a trip to a second-hand bookshop.
Virginia Woolf
One of the signs of passing youth is the birth of a sense of fellowship with other human beings as we take our place among them.
Virginia Woolf
Communication is truth communication is happiness. To share is our duty to go down boldly and bring to light those hidden thoughts which are the most diseased to conceal nothing to pretend nothing if we are ignorant to say so if we love our friends to let them know it.
Virginia Woolf
It seemed to her such nonsense-inventing differences, when people, heaven knows, were different enough without that.
Virginia Woolf
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.
Virginia Woolf
She dares me to pour myself out like a living waterfall. She dares me to enter the soul that is more than my own she extinguishes fear in mere seconds. She lets light come through.
Virginia Woolf
The word-coining genius, as if thought plunged into a sea of words and came up dripping.
Virginia Woolf
Am I a weed, carried this way, that way, on a tide that comes twice a day without a meaning?
Virginia Woolf
For the young people could not talk. And why should they? Shout, embrace, swing, be up at dawn.
Virginia Woolf
Why does one write these books after all? The drudgery, the misery, the grind, are forgotten everytime and one launches another, and it seems sheer joy and buoyancy.
Virginia Woolf
They all dreamt of each other that night, as was natural, considering how thin the partitions were between them, and how strangely they had been lifted off the earth to sit next each other in mid-ocean, and see every detail of each others' faces, and hear whatever they chanced to say.
Virginia Woolf
... pure honesty is a doubtful quality it means often lack of imagination.
Virginia Woolf
The sigh of all the seas breaking in measure round the isles soothed them the night wrapped them nothing broke their sleep, until, the birds beginning and the dawn weaving their thin voices in to its whiteness
Virginia Woolf
Do not move, do not go. Sink within this moment. Hold it for ever.
Virginia Woolf
For books continue each other, in spite of our habit of judging them separately.
Virginia Woolf
Indeed there has never been any explanation of the ebb and flow in our veins--of happiness and unhappiness.
Virginia Woolf
With my cheek leant upon the window pane I like to fancy that I am pressing as closely as can be upon the massy wall of time, which is forever lifting and pulling and letting fresh spaces of life in upon us. May it be mine to taste the moment before it has spread itself over the rest of the world! Let me taste the newest and the freshest.
Virginia Woolf
Middlemarch, the magnificent book which with all its imperfections is one of the few English novels for grown-up people.
Virginia Woolf