Quotes from Virginia Woolf

Una donna deve avere soldi e una stanza suoi propri se vuole scrivere romanzi.

Mo?liwe, ?e obstaj?c odrobin? zbyt uporczywie przy ni?szo?ci kobiet, profesor nie mia? wcale na uwadze ni?szo?ci kobiet w?a?nie, ale raczej swoj? w?asn? wy?szo??. To j? w?a?nie stara? si? ochroni? - a robi? to gor?czkowo i mo?e z nieco zbyt wielkim naciskiem, poniewa? jego wy?szo?? stanowi?a dla? nies?ychanie cenny klejnot.

I wonder why men always talk about politics? Mary speculated. I suppose, if we had votes, we should, too. I

Think of me, the uneducated child reading books in my room at 22 Hyde Park Gate -- now advanced to this glory... Yes; all that reading, I say, has borne this odd fruit. And I am pleased.

to catch those unrecorded gestures, those unsaid or half-said words, which form themselves, no more palpably than the shows of moths on the ceiling, when women are alone, unlit by the capricious and coloured light of the other sex.

And why not enjoy [life] this very moment?' The thought struck him like a bullet. Ambition dropped like a plummet. Rid of the heart-burn of rejected love, and of vanity rebuked, and all the other stings and pricks which the nettle-bed of life had burnt upon him when ambitious of fame, but could no longer inflict upon one careless of glory, he opened his eyes…

I can't keep up with them, Peter Walsh thought, as they marched up Whitehall, and sure enough, on they marched, past him, past every one, in their steady way, as if one will worked legs and arms uniformly, and life, with its varieties, its irreticences, had been laid under a pavement of monuments and wreaths and drugged into a stiff yet staring corpse by discipline.

Without self confidence we are as babes in the cradle.

The tower of Westminster Cathedral rose in front of her, the habitation of God. In the midst of the traffic, there was the habitation of God.

Then there's Queen Victoria, like a large tea cosy, & Wellington, sleek as a mastiff with paw extended . . .

Now I will watch and see how I resurrect.

Very gently and quietly, almost as if it were the blood singing in her veins, or the water of the stream running over stones, she became conscious of a new feeling within her. She wondered for a moment what it was, and then said to herself, with a little surprise at recognising in her own person so famous a thing: is happiness.

So we went to the Zoo; & I daresay I could write something interesting about that--a pale stone desert given over to charwomen & decorators: a few bears, a mandrill, & a fox or two--all in the desolation of depression.

as if to be caught happy in a world of misery was for an honest man the most despicable of crimes.

it is fatal for anyone who writes to think of their sex. It is fatal to be a man or woman pure and simple; one must be woman-manly or man-womanly.

Chastity may be a fetish invented by certain societies for unknown reasons.

a woman writing thinks back through her mothers.

But, if we now turn to human society, what chaos and confusion meet the eye! No Club has any such jurisdiction upon the breed of man. The Heralds College is the nearest approach we have to the Spaniel Club. It at least makes some attempt to preserve the purity of the human family. But when we ask what constitutes noble birth—should our eyes be light or dark, our ears curled or straight, are topknots fatal, our judges merely refer us to our coats of arms.

One must have been something of a firebrand to say to oneself, Oh, but they can't buy literature too. Literature is open to everybody. I refuse to allow you, Beadle though you are, to turn me off the grass. Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt, that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.

No one showed an instant's suspicion that Orlando was not the Orlando they had known. If any doubt there was in the human mind the action of the deer and the dogs would have been enough to dispel it, for the dumb creatures, as is well known, are far better judges both of identity and character than we are.

A wet day. And I am glad of the rain, because I have talked too much.

For Orlando's taste was broad, he was no lover of garden flowers only; the wild and the weeds even had always a fascination for him.

I reflect now that the earth is only a pebble flicked off accidentally from the face of the sun and that there is no life anywhere in the abysses of space.

ViaÈ›a este ceea ce vezi în ochii oamenilor; viaÈ›a este ceea ce aceÈ™tia înva?? È™i, înv??ând, nu înceteaz? niciodat? s? fie conÈ™tienÈ›i de asta, deÈ™i încearc? s-o ascund? - ce anume?