Quote

Disastrous would have been the result if a fire or a death had suddenly demanded something heroic of human nature, but tragedies come in the hungry hours.

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
Would
Fire
Tragedies
Hours
Demanded
Death
Heroic
Nature
Hungry
Human
Suddenly
Humans
Tragedy
Come
Result
Something
Results
Disastrous

More quotes by Virginia Woolf

Image
Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.
Virginia Woolf
Image
Against you I will fling myself, unvanquished and unyielding, O Death!
Virginia Woolf
Image
Life stand still here.
Virginia Woolf
Image
Never are voices so beautiful as on a winter's evening, when dusk almost hides the body, and they seem to issue from nothingness with a note of intimacy seldom heard by day.
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
We live in constant danger of coming apart. The mystery of why we do not always come apart is the animating tension of all art.
Virginia Woolf
Image
Alone, condemned, deserted, as those who are about to die are alone, there was a luxury in it, an isolation full of sublimity a freedom which the attached can never know
Virginia Woolf
Image
But when the door shuts on us, all that vanishes. The shell-like covering which our souls have excreted to house themselves, to make for themselves a shape distinct from others, is broken, and there is left of all these wrinkles and roughnesses a central oyster of perceptiveness, an enormous eye. How beautiful a street is in winter!
Virginia Woolf
Image
But when the self speaks to the self, who is speaking? The entombed soul, the spirit driven in, in, in to the central catacomb the self that took the veil and left the world -- a coward perhaps, yet somehow beautiful, as it flits with its lantern restlessly up and down the dark corridors.
Virginia Woolf
Image
I'm fundamentally, I think, an outsider. I do my best work and feel most braced with my back to the wall. It's an odd feeling though, writing aginst the current: difficult entirely to disregard the current. Yet of course I shall.
Virginia Woolf
Image
Death is woven in with the violets,” said Louis. “Death and again death.”)
Virginia Woolf
Image
The strange thing about life is that though the nature of it must have been apparent to every one for hundreds of years, no one has left any adequate account of it.
Virginia Woolf
Image
... the random talk of people who have no chance of immortality and thus can speak their minds out has a setting, often, of lights, streets, houses, human beings, beautiful or grotesque, which will weave itself into the moment for ever.
Virginia Woolf
Image
How many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?
Virginia Woolf
Image
In fact, though their acquaintance had been so short, they had guessed, as always happens between lovers, everything of any importance about each other in two seconds at the utmost, and it now remained only to fill in such unimportant details as what they were called where they lived and whether they were beggars or people of substance.
Virginia Woolf
Image
The very stone one kicks with one's boot will outlast Shakespeare.
Virginia Woolf
Image
If people are highly successful in their profession they lose their senses. Sight goes. They have no time to look at pictures. Sound goes. They have no time to listen to music. Speech goes. They have no time for conversation. They lose their sense of proportion.
Virginia Woolf
Image
Wine has a drastic, an astringent taste. I cannot help wincing as I drink. Ascent of flowers, radiance and heat, are distilled here to a fiery, yellow liquid. Just behind my shoulder-blades some dry thing, wide-eyed, gently closes, gradually lulls itself to sleep. This is rapture. This is relief.
Virginia Woolf
Image
I spent an hour looking at pots and carpets in the museums the other day, until the desire to describe them became like the desire for the lusts of the flesh.
Virginia Woolf
Image
I find that when I've seen a certain number of people my mind becomes like an old match box -- the part one strikes on, I mean.
Virginia Woolf