#Quote
More Quotes by Virginia Woolf
How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here for ever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.
The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.
There must be another life, she thought, sinking back into her chair, exasperated. Not in dreams; but here and now, in this room, with living people. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice with her hair blown back; she was about to grasp something that just evaded her. There must be another life, here and now, she repeated. This is too short, too broken. We know nothing, even about ourselves.
To make ideas effective, we must be able to fire them off. We must put them into action.
How many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?
The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark.
In solitude we give passionate attention to our lives, to our memories, to the details around us.
No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself.
Until we can comprehend the beguiling beauty of a single flower, we are woefully unable to grasp the meaning and potential of life itself.
I feel so intensely the delights of shutting oneself up in a little world of one’s own, with pictures and music and everything beautiful.
