He began to search among the infinite series of impressions which time had laid down, leaf upon leaf, fold upon fold softly, incessantly upon his brain; among scents, sounds; voices, harsh, hollow, sweet; and lights passing, and brooms tapping; and the wash and hush of the sea.

Virginia Woolf

Categorized in : Memories Sweet Voice

You cannot find peace by avoiding life. by Virginia Woolf

You cannot find peace by avoiding life.

meaningful peace life

No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but o... by Virginia Woolf

No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself.

sparkle inspirational needs

A feminist is any woman who tells the truth about her life by Virginia Woolf

A feminist is any woman who tells the truth about her life

feminist telling-the-truth

A light here required a shadow there. by Virginia Woolf

A light here required a shadow there.

Love had a thousand shapes. by Virginia Woolf

Love had a thousand shapes.

shapes thousand love

A self that goes on changing is a self that goes on living. by Virginia Woolf

A self that goes on changing is a self that goes on living.

I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire for something beyo... by Virginia Woolf

I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire for something beyond the daily life.

inarticulate daily-life desire

Intimacy is a difficult art. by Virginia Woolf

Intimacy is a difficult art.

intimacy difficult art

Illusions are to the soul what atmosphere is to the earth. by Virginia Woolf

Illusions are to the soul what atmosphere is to the earth.

atmosphere soul earth

Let us simmer over our incalculable cauldron, our enthralling confusion, our hotchpotch of impulses, our perpetual miracle - for the soul throws up wonders every second. Movement and change are the essence of our being; rigidity is death; conformity is death; let us say what comes into our heads, repeat ourselves, contradict ourselves, fling out the wildest nonsense, and follow the most fantastic fancies without caring what the world does or thinks or says. For nothing matters except life.

caring essence thinking

Distorted realities have always been my cup of tea. by Virginia Woolf

Distorted realities have always been my cup of tea.

cups-of-tea tea reality

I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you're everything that exists; the reality of everything.

stars love romantic

If people are highly successful in their professions they lose their sense. 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. Humanity goes. Money making becomes so important that they must work by night as well as by day. Health goes. And so competitive do they become that they will not share their work with others though they have more themselves. What then remains of a human being who has lost sight, sound, and sense of proportion? Only a cripple in a cave.

successful sight night

And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full... by Virginia Woolf

And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full of trees

One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dine... by Virginia Woolf

One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.

sleep food love

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.

reading advice giving

No passion is stronger in the breast of a man than the desire to make others believe as he believes. Nothing so cuts at the root of his happiness and fills him with rage as the sense that another rates low what he prizes high.

passion cutting believe

I am in the mood to dissolve in the sky. by Virginia Woolf

I am in the mood to dissolve in the sky.

I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.

innovation creativity creative

Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us. by Virginia Woolf

Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.

blame horse praise