Quote

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

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
Think
Speak
Waste
Boots
Thinking
Two
Hero
Kicks
Look
Dying
Ages
Outlast
Looks
Perhaps
Stone
Permissible
Even
Thousand
Stones
Wastes
Long
Dies
Indeed
Boot
Years
Age
Mountain
Hereafter
Men
Lasts
Fame
Shakespeare

More quotes by Virginia Woolf

Image
O friendship, I too will press flowers between the pages of Shakespeare's sonnets!
Virginia Woolf
Image
Nothing, I know, had any chance against death.
Virginia Woolf
Image
I want to write a novel about Silence, he said “the things people don’t say.
Virginia Woolf
Image
Style is a very simple matter it is all rhythm. Once you get that, you can't use the wrong words.
Virginia Woolf
Image
The very stone one kicks with one's boot will outlast Shakespeare.
Virginia Woolf
Image
Lord, how tired one gets of one's own writing.
Virginia Woolf
Image
to write a novel in the heart of London is next to an impossibility. I feel as if I were nailing a flag to the top of a mast in a raging gale.
Virginia Woolf
Image
To stand in a great bookshop crammed with books so new that their pages almost stick together, and the gilt on their backs is still fresh, has an excitement no less delightful than the old excitement of the second-hand bookstall.
Virginia Woolf
Image
and then he could not see her come into a room without a sense of the flowing of robes, of the flowering of blossoms, of the purple waves of the sea, of all things that are lovely and mutable on the surface but still and passionate in their heart.
Virginia Woolf
Image
Doesn't one always think of the past, in a garden with men and women lying under the trees? Aren't they one's past, all that remains of it, those men and women, those ghosts lying under the trees ... one's happiness, one's reality?
Virginia Woolf
Image
For love... has two faces one white, the other black two bodies one smooth, the other hairy. It has two hands, two feet, two tails, two, indeed, of every member and each one is the exact opposite of the other. Yet, so strictly are they joined together
Virginia Woolf
Image
It rasped her, though, to have stirring about in her this brutal monster! to hear twigs cracking and feel hooves planted down in the depths of that leaf-encumbered forest, the soul never to be content quite, or quite secure, for at any moment the brute would be stirring, this hatred.
Virginia Woolf
Image
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.
Virginia Woolf
Image
I am reading six books at once, the only way of reading since, as you will agree, one book is only a single unaccompanied note, and to get the full sound, one needs ten others at the same time.
Virginia Woolf
Image
literature is the record of our discontent.
Virginia Woolf
Image
One has to secrete a jelly in which to slip quotations down people's throats - and one always secretes too much jelly.
Virginia Woolf
Image
war is a man's game ... the killing machine has a gender and it is male.
Virginia Woolf
Image
Thinking is my fighting.
Virginia Woolf
Image
They went in and out of each other's minds without any effort.
Virginia Woolf
Image
Happiness is to have a little string onto which things will attach themselves.
Virginia Woolf