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But how entirely I live in my imagination how completely depend upon spurts of thought, coming as I walk, as I sit things churning up in my mind and so making a perpetual pageant, which is to be my happiness.
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
Live
Coming
Pageant
Mind
Walks
Pioneers
Things
Imagination
Perpetual
Happiness
Depend
Happy
Entirely
Upon
Completely
Making
Depends
Spurts
Thought
Walk
Churning
More quotes by Virginia Woolf
Beauty was not everything. Beauty had this penalty — it came too readily, came too completely. It stilled life — froze it.
Virginia Woolf
The streets of London have their map, but our passions are uncharted. What are you going to meet if you turn this corner?
Virginia Woolf
... it's been a perpetual discovery, my life. A miracle.
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Life for both sexes is arduous, difficult, a perpetual struggle. More than anything... it calls for confidence in oneself...And how can we generate this imponderable quality most quickly? By thinking that other people are inferior to oneself.
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How many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?
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The only advice ... that one person can give another about reading is to take no advice, to follow your own instincts, to use your own reason, to come to your own conclusions.
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What is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark here was one.
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Talents of the novelist: ... observation of character, analysis of emotion, people's feelings, personal relations.
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Writing is a divine art, and the more I write and read the more I love it.
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But beauty must be broken daily to remain beautiful.
Virginia Woolf
She came into a room she stood, as he had often seen her, in a doorway with lots of people round her. But it was Clarissa one remembered. Not that she was striking not beautiful at all there was nothing picturesque about her she never said anything specially clever there she was however there she was.
Virginia Woolf
War is not women's history.
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Different though the sexes are, they inter-mix. In every human being a vacillation from one sex to the other takes place, and often it is only the clothes that keep the male or female likeness, while underneath the sex is very opposite of what it is above.
Virginia Woolf
Ransack the language as he might, words failed him. He wanted another landscape, and another tongue.
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I always had the deepest affection for people who carried sublime tears in their silences.
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This is not writing at all. Indeed, I could say that Shakespeare surpasses literature altogether, if I knew what I meant.
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I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.
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The root of things, what they were all afraid of saying, was that happiness is dirt cheap. You can have it for nothing. Beauty.
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The immense success of our life is, I think, that our treasure is hid away or rather in such common things that nothing can touch it.
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The mind is the most capricious of insects — flitting, fluttering.
Virginia Woolf