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Virginia Woolf Quotes - Page 29

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Oh and I thought, as i was dressing, how interesting it would be to describe the approach of age, and the gradual coming of death. As people describe love. To note every symptom of failure: but why failure? To treat age

Oh and I thought, as i was dressing, how interesting it would be to describe the approach of age, and the gradual coming of death. As people describe love. To note every symptom of failure: but why failure? To treat age as an experience that is different from the others; and to detect every one of the gradual stages towards death which is a tremendous experience, an not as unconscious, at least in its approaches, as death is.

Love, People, Interesting

Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.4523, Delphi Classics

The immense success of our life is, I think, that our treasure is hid away; or rather in such common things that nothing can touch it.

Thinking, Treasure, Common

Virginia Woolf (1980). “The Diary of Virginia Woolf: 1925-1930”, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt P

Happily, at forty-six I still feel as experimental and on the verge of getting at the truth as ever.

Six, Feels, Forty

Virginia Woolf (1990). “A moment's liberty: the shorter diary”, Vintage

I begin to long for some little language such as lovers use, broken words, inarticulate words, like the shuffling of feet on pavement.

Feet, Long, Broken

Virginia Woolf (2016). “The Waves”, p.176, Virginia Woolf

There are no teachers, saints, prophets, good people, but the artists.

Teacher, Artist, People

Virginia Woolf (1976). “The question of things happening”, Vintage

In any case life is but a procession of shadows, and God knows why it is that we embrace them so eagerly, and see them depart with such anguish, being shadows.

Shadow, Life Is, Embrace

Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.766, Delphi Classics

Who would not spout the family teapot in order to talk with Keats for an hour about poetry, or with Jane Austen about the art of fiction?

Art, Order, Fiction

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

He looked very old. He looked, James thought, getting his head now against the Lighthouse, now against the waste of waters running away into the open, like some old stone lying on the sand; he looked as if he had become physically what was always at the back of both of their minds-that loneliness which was for both of them the truth about things.

Running, Loneliness, Lying

Virginia Woolf (2007). “Selected Works of Virginia Woolf”, p.387, Wordsworth Editions

So fine was the morning except for a streak of wind here and there that the sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea.

Morning, Clouds, Wind

Virginia Woolf (2006). “To the Lighthouse”, p.27, OUP Oxford

He loved, beneath all this summer transiency, to feel the earth's spine beneath him; for such he took the hard root of the oak tree to be; or, for image followed image, it was the back of a great horse that he was riding, or the deck of a tumbling ship -- it was anything indeed, so long as it was hard, for he felt the need of something which he could attach his floating heart to; the heart that tugged at his side; the heart that seemed filled with spiced and amorous gales every evening about this time when he walked out.

Summer, Horse, Heart

Virginia Woolf (2014). “Orlando”, p.8, Lettere Animate Editore

Life for both sexes is arduous, difficult, a perpetual struggle. More than anything... it calls for confidence in oneself...And how can we generate this imponderable quality most quickly? By thinking that other people are inferior to oneself.

Life, Confidence, Sex

Did it matter then, she asked herself, walking towards Bond Street, did it matter that she must inevitably cease completely? All this must go on without her; did she resent it; or did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely?

Believe, Goes On, Matter

Virginia Woolf (2012). “Mrs. Dalloway - Broadview Edition”, p.9, Broadview Press

There is no room for the impurities of literature in an essay.

Literature, Rooms, Essays

Virginia Woolf, David Bradshaw (2009). “Selected Essays”, p.12, Oxford University Press

The grey nurse resumed her knitting as Peter Walsh, on the hot seat beside her, began snoring. In her grey dress, moving her hands indefatigably yet quietly, she seemed like the champion of the rights of sleepers, like one of those spectral presences which rise in twilight in woods made of sky and branches. The solitary traveler, haunter of lanes, disturber of ferns, and devastator of hemlock plants, looking up, suddenly sees the giant figure at the end of the ride.

Twilight, Moving, Knitting

Virginia Woolf (2012). “Mrs. Dalloway - Broadview Edition”, p.56, Broadview Press

Use words that soak up life.

Use

But I beneath a rougher sea, And whelmed in deeper gulfs than he.

Sea, Deeper

Virginia Woolf (1982). “To the Lighthouse: The Original Holograph Draft”

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

Luxury, Isolation, Knows

Virginia Woolf (2007). “Selected Works of Virginia Woolf”, p.187, Wordsworth Editions

Ruin, weariness, death, perpetually death, stand grimly to confront the other presence of Elizabethan drama which is life: life compact of frigates, fir trees and ivory, of dolphins and the juice of July flowers, of the milk of unicorns and panthers’ breath, of ropes of pearl, brains of peacocks and Cretan wine.

Drama, Flower, Wine

Virginia Woolf (2013). “The Common Reader”, p.56, Lulu Press, Inc

About here, she thought, dabbling her fingers in the water, a ship had sunk, and she muttered, dreamily half asleep, how we perished, each alone.

Water, Half, Ships

There is something I want-something I have come to get, and she fell deeper and deeper without knowing quite what it was, with her eyes closed.

Eye, Want Something, Knowing

Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.1069, Delphi Classics

loveliness is infernally sad.

Beauty, Loveliness

Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.748, Delphi Classics

Am I a weed, carried this way, that way, on a tide that comes twice a day without a meaning?

Weed, Way, Tides

Virginia Woolf (2015). “The Years”, p.294, Booklassic

If this were the time or the place to uphold a paradox, I am half inclined to state that Norfolk is one of the most beautiful of counties.

Beautiful, Half, Paradox

Virginia Woolf, Jan Morris (1993). “Travels with Virginia Woolf”, Random House (UK)

writing is the profound pleasure and being read the superficial.

Writing, Profound, Pleasure

Virginia Woolf (2003). “A Writer's Diary”, p.87, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

To stand in a great bookshop crammed with books so new that their pages almost stick together, and the gilt on their backs is still fresh, has an excitement no less delightful than the old excitement of the second-hand bookstall.

Book, Hands, Together

Virginia Woolf (1967). “Collected essays”

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