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London perpetually attracts, stimulates, gives me a play and a story and a poem, without any trouble, save that of moving my legs through the streets... To walk alone through London is the greatest rest.
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
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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
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Giving
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Perpetually
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Attracts
More quotes by Virginia Woolf
I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.
Virginia Woolf
[Ulysses is] the work of a queasy undergraduate scratching his pimples.
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O why do I ever let anyone read what I write! Every time I have to go through a breakfast with a letter of criticism I swear I will write for my own praise or blame in future. It is a misery.
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It is no use trying to sum people up.
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Beauty was not everything. Beauty had this penalty — it came too readily, came too completely. It stilled life — froze it.
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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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At 46 one must be a miser only have time for essentials.
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if newspapers were written by people whose sole object in writing was to tell the truth about politics and the truth about art we should not believe in war, and we should believe in art.
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Her life was a tissue of vanity and deceit.
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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.
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Still, life had a way of adding day to day
Virginia Woolf
The real novelist, the perfectly simple human being, could go on, indefinitely imaging.
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But nothing is so strange when one is in love (and what was this except being in love?) as the complete indifference of other people.
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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.
Virginia Woolf
I often wish I'd got on better with your father,' he said.
Virginia Woolf
Better was it to go unknown and leave behind you an arch, then to burn like a meteor and leave no dust.
Virginia Woolf
Nothing has really happened until it has been recorded.
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Words belong to each other.
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I ride rough waters, and shall sink with no one to save me.
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I see nothing. We may sink and settle on the waves. The sea will drum in my ears. The white petals will be darkened with sea water. They will float for a moment and then sink. Rolling over the waves will shoulder me under. Everything falls in a tremendous shower, dissolving me.
Virginia Woolf