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Virginia Woolf Quotes and Quotations
The great cathedral space which was childhood. Humour is the first of the gifts to perish in a foreign tongue. Life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning. A biography is considered complete if it merely accounts for six or seven selves, whereas a person may well have as many as a thousand. One of the signs of passing youth is the birth of a sense of fellowhip with other human beings as we take our place among them. Money dignifies what is frivolous if unpaid for. The first duty of a lecturer- to hand you after an hour's discourse a nugget of pure truth to wrap up between the pages of your notebooks and keep on the mantelpiece for ever. The mind of man works with strangeness upon the body of time. An hour, once it lodges in the queer element of the human spirit, may be stretched to fifty or a hundred times its clock length; on the other hand, an hour may be accurately represented by the timepiece of the mind by one second. Have you any notion how many books are written about women in the course of one year? Have you any notion how many are written by men? Are you aware that you are, perhaps, the most discussed animal in the universe? If woman had no existence save in the fiction written by men, one would imagine her a person of the utmost importance; very various; heroic and mean; splendid and sordid; infinitely beautiful and hideous in the extreme; as great as a man, some think even better. He is limp and damp and milder than the breath of a cow. A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction. As for my next book, I am going to hold myself from writing it till I have it impending in me: grown heavy in my mind like a ripe pear, pendant, gravid, asking to be cut or it will fall. Arrange whatever pieces come your way. Some people go to priests; others to poetry; I to my friends. I have lost friends, some by death ... others by sheer inability to cross the street. If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people. Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book shown to him by heart, and his friends can only read the title. It is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top. When the shriveled skin of the ordinary is stuffed out with meaning, it satisfies the senses amazingly. Those comfortably padded lunatic asylums which are known, euphemistically, as the stately homes of England. I have lost friends, some by death ... others by sheer inability to cross the street. The great cathedral space which was childhood. |