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The proper stuff of fiction' does not exist everything is the proper stuff of fiction, every feeling, every thought every quality of brain and spirit is drawn upon no perception comes amiss.

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
Every
Upon
Drawn
Comes
Proper
Stuff
Perception
Feelings
Exist
Spirit
Fiction
Thought
Brain
Doe
Feeling
Everything
Quality
Amiss

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How are we to account for the strange human craving for the pleasure of feeling afraid which is so much involved in our love of ghost stories?
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One should be a painter. As a writer, I feel the beauty, which is almost entirely colour, very subtle, very changeable, running over my pen, as if you poured a large jug of champagne over a hairpin.
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Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.
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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.
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It is only by putting it into words that I make it whole. This wholeness means that it has lost its power to hurt me it gives me, perhaps because by doing so I take away the pain, a great delight to put the severed parts together
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If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people.
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I believe that the main thing in beginning a novel is to feel, not that you can write it, but that it exists on the far side of a gulf, which words can't cross: that it's to be pulled through only in a breathless anguish.
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Somewhere, everywhere, now hidden, now apparent in what ever is written down, is the form of a human being. If we seek to know him, are we idly occupied?
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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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I am writing to a rhythm and not to a plot.
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... if we can imagine the art of fiction come alive and standing in our midst, she would undoubtedly bid us to break her and bullyher, as well as honour and love her, for so her youth is renewed and her sovereignty assured.
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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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It is no use trying to sum people up.
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Does housekeeping interest you at all? I think it really ought to be just as good as writing and I never see where the separation between the too comes in. At least if you must put books on one side and life on the other, each is a poor and bloodless thing but my theory is that they mix indistinguishable.
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How remorseless life is!
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It was a miserable machine, an inefficient machine, she thought, the human apparatus for painting or for feeling it always broke down at the critical moment heroically, one must force it on.
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You send a boy to school in order to make friends - the right sort.
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There was no freedom in life, and certainly there was none in death.
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I often wish I'd got on better with your father,' he said.
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For what Harley Street specialist has time to understand the body, let alone the mind or both in combination, when he is a slave to thirteen thousand a year?
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