#Quote
More Quotes by Virginia Woolf
In solitude we give passionate attention to our lives, to our memories, to the details around us.
A light here required a shadow there.
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.
Until we can comprehend the beguiling beauty of a single flower, we are woefully unable to grasp the meaning and potential of life itself.
Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more.
Intimacy is a difficult art.
I am overwhelmed with things I ought to have written about and never found the proper words.
I am rooted, but I flow.
How many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?
One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.
