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Virginia Woolf Quotes - Page 27

All Quotes Adventure Age Aging Art Beach Beauty Belief Bitterness Blame Bones Chaos Character Charity Children Communication Consciousness Country Creativity Criticism Darkness Death Desire Difficulty Diversity Doubt Duty Dying Earth Effort Essays Feelings Feminism Fighting Flying Freedom Friendship Funny Genius Giving Goodness Growing Up Happiness Hate Hatred Healing Heart Heaven History Home Honesty House Human Nature Hurt Illness Imagination Independence Inspiration Inspirational Intimacy Joy Judging Language Life Literature Love Lust Lying Madness Memories Moon Morning Motivational Nature Pain Passion Past Peace Perception Personality Philosophy Pleasure Praise Quality Reading Reality Reflection Running Sadness Safety Silence Silver Singing Skins Sleep Solitude Soul Spring Stress Style Suffering Tea Time Today Tragedy Travel Truth Vision Waiting Wall War Water Weed Wine Winter Writing

It is permissible even for a dying hero to think before he dies how men will speak of him hereafter. His fame lasts perhaps two thousand years. And what are two thousand years?... What, indeed, if you look from a

It is permissible even for a dying hero to think before he dies how men will speak of him hereafter. His fame lasts perhaps two thousand years. And what are two thousand years?... What, indeed, if you look from a mountain top down the long wastes of the ages? The very stone one kicks with one's boot will outlast Shakespeare.

Hero, Men, Thinking

Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.1012, Delphi Classics

They say the sky is the same everywhere. Travellers, the shipwrecked, exiles, and the dying draw comfort from the thought.

Travel, Sky, Dying

Virginia Woolf (2007). “Selected Works of Virginia Woolf”, p.27, Wordsworth Editions

Again, somehow, one saw life, a pure bead. I lifted the pencil again, useless though I knew it to be. But even as I did so, the unmistakable tokens of death showed themselves. The body relaxed, and instantly grew stiff. The struggle was over. The insignificant little creature now knew death. As I looked at the dead moth, this minute wayside triumph of so great a force over so mean an antagonist filled me with wonder. Just as life had been strange a few minutes before, so death was now as strange.

Struggle, Mean, Triumph

Virginia Woolf (2017). “Essays Virginia Woolf”, p.446, Random House

They all dreamt of each other that night, as was natural, considering how thin the partitions were between them, and how strangely they had been lifted off the earth to sit next each other in mid-ocean, and see every detail of each others' faces, and hear whatever they chanced to say.

Ocean, Night, Details

Virginia Woolf (2016). “The Voyage Out”, p.57, Virginia Woolf

What could be more serious than the love of man for woman, what more commanding, more impressive, bearing in its bosom the seeds of death; at the same time these lovers, these people entering into illusion glittering eyed, must be danced round with mockery, decorated with garlands.

Love, Men, People

Virginia Woolf (2007). “Selected Works of Virginia Woolf”, p.319, Wordsworth Editions

The taste for books was an early one. As a child he was sometimes found at midnight by a page still reading. They took his taper away, and he bred glow-worms to serve his purpose. They took the glow-worms away and he almost burnt the house down with a tinder.

Children, Book, Reading

Virginia Woolf (2012). “Orlando: A Biography”, p.123, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

For the young people could not talk. And why should they? Shout, embrace, swing, be up at dawn.

Swings, People, Dawn

Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.972, Delphi Classics

It doesn't have to be the truth, just your vision of it, written down.

Vision, Written

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?

Ghost Stories, Feelings, Our Love

Virginia Woolf (1967). “Collected essays”

I was so pleased and excited by your letter that I trotted about all day like a puppy with a bone.

Letters, Puppy, Bones

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

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.

Fire, Tragedy, Heroic

Virginia Woolf (2016). “The Voyage Out”, p.140, Virginia Woolf

Biography is to give a man some kind of shape after his death.

Death, Men, Giving

For she was a child, throwing bread to the ducks, between her parents who stood by the lake, holding her life in her arms which, as she neared them, grew larger and larger in her arms, until it became a whole life, a complete life, which she put down by them and said, "This is what I have made of it! This!" And what had she made of it? What, indeed?

Children, Lakes, Ducks

Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.878, Delphi Classics

She had read a wonderful play about a man who scratched on the wall of his cell and she had felt that was true of life — one scratched on the wall.

Wall, Men, Cells

Virginia Woolf (2012). “Mrs. Dalloway - Broadview Edition”, p.192, Broadview Press

I read the book of Job last night, I don't think God comes out well in it.

Witty, Jobs, Book

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

Those comfortably padded lunatic asylums which are known, euphemistically, as the stately homes of England.

Women, Home, House

The Common Reader "Lady Dorothy Nevill" (1925) See Crisp 2; Hemans 3

To love makes one solitary.

Solitary

Virginia Woolf (2012). “Mrs. Dalloway - Broadview Edition”, p.23, Broadview Press

You cannot cross the narrow bridge of art carrying all its tools in your hands. Some you must leave behind.

Art, Hands, Bridges

Virginia Woolf, David Bradshaw (2009). “Selected Essays”, p.83, Oxford University Press

For pain words are lacking. There should be cries, cracks, fissures, whiteness passing over chintz covers, interference with the sense of time, of space ; the sense also of extreme fixity in passing objects ; and sounds very remote and then very close ; flesh being gashed and blood sparting, a joint suddenly twisted - beneath all of which appears something very important, yet remote, to be just held in solitude.” — Virginia Woolf, The Waves

Pain, Virginia, Blood

Virginia Woolf (2005). “Selected Works of Virginia Woolf”, p.763, Wordsworth Editions

The large shiny black forehead of the first whale was no more than two yards from us when it sank beneath the surface of the water, then we saw the huge blue-black bulk glide quietly under the raft right beneath our feet. It lay there for some time, dark and motionless, and we held our breath as we looked down on the gigantic curved back of a mammal a good deal longer than the raft.

Time, Dark, Blue

What a labour writing is ... making one sentence do the work of a page; that's what I call hard work.

Hard Work, Writing, Pages

Virginia Woolf (1975). “The Letters of Virginia Woolf: 1932-1935”

Then may I tell you that the very next words I read were these – ‘Chloe liked Olivia…’ Do not start. Do not blush. Let us admit in the privacy of our own society that these things sometimes happen. Sometimes women do like women.

Olivia, Chloe, May

Virginia Woolf, Morag Shiach (1998). “A Room of One's Own: And, Three Guineas”, p.106

After that, how unbelievable death was! - that is must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all.

World, Mrs Dalloway, Ends

Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.934, Delphi Classics

To survive, each sentence must have, at its heart, a little spark of fire, and this, whatever the risk, the novelist must pluck with his own hands from the blaze.

Heart, Fire, Hands

Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.3635, Delphi Classics

Surely it was time someone invented a new plot, or that the author came out from the bushes.

Time, Plot

Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.1933, Delphi Classics

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