The world was going on as usual. All the time she was writing the world had continued. Virginia Woolf More Quotes by Virginia Woolf More Quotes From Virginia Woolf ... it's been a perpetual discovery, my life. A miracle. Virginia Woolf perpetual miracle discovery I have lost friends, some by death...others by sheer inability to cross the street. Virginia Woolf friendship funny death If it were now to die, 'twere now to be most happy. Virginia Woolf dies ifs Other people have faces; Susan and Jinny have faces; they are here. Their world is the real world. The things they lift are heavy. They say Yes, they say No; whereas I shift and change and am seen through in a second. If they meet a housemaid she looks at them without laughing. But she laughs at me. They know what to say if spoken to. They laugh really; they get angry really; while I have to look first and do what other people do when they have done it. Virginia Woolf real laughing people If we face the fact, for it is a fact, that there is no arm to cling to, but that we go alone and that our relation is to the world of reality and not only to the world of men and women. Virginia Woolf men reality world Why, he wondered, did people who had been asleep always want to make out that they were extremely wide-awake? Virginia Woolf want sleep people To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others. Virginia Woolf invisible being-alone darkness How far do our feelings take their colour from the dive underground? I mean, what is the reality of any feeling? Virginia Woolf feelings mean reality King old ladies assure us that cats are often the best judges of character. A cat will always to to a good man, they say. Virginia Woolf cat kings character Twice Flush had done his utmost to kill his enemy; twice he had failed. And why had he failed, he asked himself? Because he loved Miss Barrett. Looking up at her from under his eyebrows as she lay, severe and silent on the sofa, he knew that he must love her for ever. Things are not simple but complex. If he bit Mr. Browning he bit her too. Hatred is not hatred; hatred is also love. Virginia Woolf eyebrows hatred simple For this is the truth about our soul, he thought, who fish-like inhabits deep seas and plies among obscurities threading her way between the boles of giant weeds, over sun-flickered spaces and on and on into gloom, cold, deep, inscrutable; suddenly she shoots to the surface and sports on the wind-wrinkled waves; that is, has a positive need to brush, scrape, kindle herself, gossiping. Virginia Woolf weed wind sports I meant to write about death, only life came breaking in as usual Virginia Woolf optimistic usual writing It is curious how instinctively one protects the image of oneself from idolatry or any other handling that could make it ridiculous, or too unlike the original to be believed any longer. Virginia Woolf ridiculous curious protect But then anyone who's worth anything reads just what he likes, as the mood takes him, and with extravagant enthusiasm. Virginia Woolf mood likes enthusiasm Yes, she thought, laying down her brush in extreme fatigues, I have had my vision. Virginia Woolf lighthouse laying-down vision . . . to walk alone in London is the greatest rest. Virginia Woolf london walks My mind turned by anxiety, or other cause, from its scrutiny of blank paper, is like a lost child–wandering the house, sitting on the bottom step to cry. Virginia Woolf anxiety house children ...she took her hand and raised her brush. For a moment it stayed trembling in a painful but exciting ecstacy in the air. Where to begin?--that was the question at what point to make the first mark? One line placed on the canvas committed her to innumerable risks, to frequent and irrevocable decisions. All that in idea seemed simple became in practice immediately complex; as the waves shape themselves symmetrically from the cliff top, but to the swimmer among them are divided by steep gulfs, and foaming crests. Still the risk must run; the mark made. Virginia Woolf simple air running But what is more to the point is my belief that the habit of writing thus for my own eye only is good practice. It loosens the ligaments. Never mind the misses and the stumbles. Virginia Woolf eye practice writing ...she always had the feeling that it was very, very dangerous to live even one day. Virginia Woolf mrs-dalloway one-day feelings
