#Quote
More Quotes by Virginia Woolf
Just in case you ever foolishly forget; I'm never not thinking of you
In solitude we give passionate attention to our lives, to our memories, to the details around us.
I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.
We are the words; we are the music; we are the thing 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.
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.
I am made and remade continually. Different people draw different words from me.
Until we can comprehend the beguiling beauty of a single flower, we are woefully unable to grasp the meaning and potential of life itself.
No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself.
I am overwhelmed with things I ought to have written about and never found the proper words.
