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Virginia Woolf Quotes - Page 26

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Some collaboration has to take place in the mind between the woman and the man before the art of creation can be accomplished. Some marriage of opposites has to be consummated. The whole of the mind must lie wide open

Some collaboration has to take place in the mind between the woman and the man before the art of creation can be accomplished. Some marriage of opposites has to be consummated. The whole of the mind must lie wide open if we are to get the sense that the

Art, Lying, Creativity

Virginia Woolf (2007). “Selected Works of Virginia Woolf”, p.627, Wordsworth Editions

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.

Mean, Numbers, People

Virginia Woolf (1975). “The letters of Virginia Woolf”, Harcourt

Sir, I would trust you with my heart. Moreover, we have left our bodies in the banqueting hall. Those on the turf are the shadows of our souls.

Heart, Soul, Shadow

Virginia Woolf (2014). “Monday or Tuesday: Eight Stories”, p.30, Simon and Schuster

[Final diary entry:] Occupation is essential. And now with some pleasure I find that it's seven; and must cook dinner. Haddock and sausage meat. I think it is true that one gains a certain hold on sausage and haddock by writing them down.

Writing, Thinking, Occupation

Diary, 8 Mar. 1941.Woolf committed suicide on 28 Mar. 1941.

Women alone stir my imagination.

Imagination, My Imagination

Virginia Woolf (2014). “Three Guineas (Annotated)”, p.66, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

I have a feeling I shall go mad. I cannot go on longer in these terrible times. I shan't recover this time. I hear voices and cannot concentrate on my work. I have fought against it but cannot fight any longer.

Fighting, Voice, Mad

The world was going on as usual. All the time she was writing the world had continued.

Writing, World

"Orlando".

To enjoy freedom ... we have of course to control ourselves. We must not squander our powers, helplessly and ignorantly, squirting half the house in order to water a single rose.

Freedom, Rain, Order

Virginia Woolf, Hermione Lee (2000). “A room of one's own and other essays”

Still, the sun was hot. Still, one got over things. Still, life had a way of adding day to day

Hot, Way, Sun

Virginia Woolf (2012). “Mrs. Dalloway - Broadview Edition”, p.96, Broadview Press

No passion is stronger in the breast of man than the desire to make others believe as he believes

Believe, Passion, Men

Virginia Woolf (2012). “Orlando: A Biography”, p.178, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

But I think I’m coloured by my own wishes, & experimental mood.

Thinking, Wish, Mood

Virginia Woolf (1978). “The Diary of Virginia Woolf: 1920-1924”, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt P

Nothing induces me to read a novel except when I have to make money by writing about it. I detest them.

Money, Writing, Novel

Virginia Woolf (1975). “The letters of Virginia Woolf”

I have had my vision.

Vision

Virginia Woolf (2015). “To the Lighthouse”, p.161, Virginia Woolf

Old Madame du Deffand and her friends talked for fifty years without stopping. And of it all, what remains? Perhaps three witty sayings. So that we are at liberty to suppose either that nothing was said, or that nothing witty was said, or that the fraction of three witty sayings lasted eighteen thousand two hundred and fifty nights, which does not leave a liberal allowance of wit for any one of them.

Witty, Night, Years

Virginia Woolf (2007). “Selected Works of Virginia Woolf”, p.495, Wordsworth Editions

Boredom is the legitimate kingdom of the philanthropic.

Blessing, Reality, Boredom

Virginia Woolf, Anne Olivier Bell (1977). “The Diary of Virginia Woolf: 1915-1919”, Chatto & Windus

For women live much more in the past...they attach themselves to places.

Past, Mrs Dalloway

But he could not taste, he could not feel. In the teashop among the tables and the chattering waiters the appalling fear came over him- he could not feel. He could reason; he could read, Dante for example, quite easily…he could add up his bill; his brain was perfect; it must be the fault of the world then- that he could not feel.

Perfect, Brain, Example

Virginia Woolf (2012). “Mrs. Dalloway - Broadview Edition”, p.88, Broadview Press

It is part of the novelist's convention not to mention soup and salmon and ducklings, as if soup and salmon and ducklings were of no importance.

Food, Cooking, Novelists

Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.2616, Delphi Classics

How then did it work out, all this? How did one judge people, think of them? How did one add up this and that and conclude that it is liking one felt, or disliking?

Thinking, People, Work Out

Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.1004, Delphi Classics

No, she thought, one could say nothing to nobody. The urgency of the moment always missed its mark. Words fluttered sideways and struck the object inches too low.

Moments, Sideways, Mark

Virginia Woolf (2016). “To the Lighthouse”, p.166, Tyché

Never did anybody look so sad. Bitter and black, halfway down, in the darkness, in the shaft which ran from the sunlight to the depths, perhaps a tear formed; a tear fell; the waves swayed this way and that, received it, and were at rest. Never did anybody look so sad.

Darkness, Black, Tears

One wanted, she thought, dipping her brush deliberately, to be on a level with ordinary experience, to feel simply that's a chair, that's a table, and yet at the same time, It's a miracle, it's an ecstasy.

Miracle, Ordinary, Levels

Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.1126, Delphi Classics

O how blessed it would be never to marry, or grow old; but to spend one's life innocently and indifferently among the trees and rivers which alone can keep one cool and childlike in the midst of the troubles of the world!

Blessed, Rivers, Childhood

Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.1973, Delphi Classics

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.

Sweet, Memories, Voice

Virginia Woolf (2007). “Selected Works of Virginia Woolf”, p.365, Wordsworth Editions

Of course, literature is the only spiritual and humane career. Even painting tends to dumness, and music turns people erotic, whereas the more you write the nicer you become.

Spiritual, Book, Writing

Virginia Woolf (1991). “Paper Darts”

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