Month by month things are losing their hardness; even my body now lets the light through; my spine is soft like wax near the flame of the candle. I dream; I dream. — Virginia Woolf, The Waves. (Harvest Books 1978) Originally published October 8th 1931. Advertisements
I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later, and thus we don’t have complete emotions about the present, only about the past. ― Virginia Woolf, The Diary of Virginia Woolf, Volume Three: 1925-1930. (Mariner Books; First edition, September 14, 1981)
Let us record the atoms as they fall upon the mind in the order in which they fall, let us trace the pattern, however disconnected and incoherent in appearance, which each sight or incident scores upon the consciousness. Let us not take it for granted that life exists more fully in what is commonly thought… Continue reading Virginia Woolf
The most ordinary conversation is often the most poetic, and the most poetic is precisely that which cannot be written down. — Virginia Woolf, Orlando. (Penguin Classic; Abridged edition, October 3, 2000) Originally published October 11th 1928.
So the summer has ended … Now in October the thick mist has come, thickening and blotting. — Virginia Woolf, entry, October 1934, A Writer’s Diary (Mariner Books, 2003)
Her mind was as the landscape outside when dark beneath clouds and straitly lashed by wind and hail. — Virginia Woolf, The Voyage Out. (Harvest Books; 1 edition February 3, 2003) Originally published 1915.
About here, she thought, dabbling her fingers in the water, a ship had sunk, and she murmured, dreamily, half asleep, how we perished, each alone. — Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse. (Pomona Press, January 1, 2006) Originally published 1927.