Virginia Woolf
Virginia Woolf
Adeline Virginia Woolf, known professionally as Virginia Woolf, was an English writer and one of the foremost modernists of the twentieth century...
NationalityBritish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth25 January 1882
CityLondon, England
art lying creativity
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
thinking treasure common
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.
brain september pears
I feel my brains, like a pear, to see if it's ripe; it will be exquisite by September.
growing-up grows loses
Why must they grow up and lose it all?
school boys order
You send a boy to school in order to make friends - the right sort.
time writing reflection
Life piles up so fast that I have no time to write out the equally fast rising mound of reflections.
sex mind looks
Inevitably we look upon society, so kind to you, so harsh to us, as an ill-fitting form that distorts the truth; deforms the mind; fetters the will.
running philosophy hands
Waves of hands, hesitations at street corners, someone dropping a cigarette into the gutter-all are stories. But which is the true story? That I do not know. Hence I keep my phrases hung like clothes in a cupboard, waiting for some one to wear them. Thus waiting, thus speculating, making this note and then an· other I do not cling to life. I shall be brushed like a bee from a sunflower. My philosophy, always accumulating, welling up moment by moment, runs like quicksilver a dozen ways at once.
moving play giving
London perpetually attracts, stimulates, gives me a play and a story and a poem, without any trouble, save that of moving my legs through the streets... To walk alone through London is the greatest rest.
heart body mutilation
When the body escaped mutilation, seldom did the heart go to the grave unscarred.
book people imperfection
Middlemarch, the magnificent book which with all its imperfections is one of the few English novels for grown-up people.
writing sea bottom
One ought to sink to the bottom of the sea, probably, and live alone with one's words.
real home tourists
The English tourist in American literature wants above all things something different from what he has at home. For this reason the one American writer whom the English whole-heartedly admire is Walt Whitman. There, you will hear them say, is the real American undisguised. In the whole of English literature there is no figure which resembles his - among all our poetry none in the least comparable to Leaves of Grass
dark illumination miracle
The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark.