Quotes from Virginia Woolf

She was climbing up those branches, this way and that, laying hands on one flower and then another. Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose, she read, and so reading she was ascending, she felt, on to the top, on to the summit. How satisfying! How restful! All the odds and ends of the day stuck to this magnet; her mind felt swept, felt clean. And then there it was, suddenly entire; she held it in her hands, beautiful and reasonable, clear and complete, here—the sonnet.

The history of most women is] hidden either by silence, or by flourishes and ornaments that amount to silence.

For there's nothing in the world so bad for some women as marriage, he thought; and politics...

sembrava fosse diventato fisicamente quello che loro avevano segretamente custodito nella loro mente – quella solitudine che era per entrambi la verità delle cose.

to say, Oh, yes, Frisk. I'll call him Frisk. She wanted even to say, Was

Her simplicity fathomed what clever people falcified.

enough. She had in mind at the moment, rich

The age was the Elizabethan; their morals were not ours; nor their poets; nor their climate; nor their vegetables even. Everything was different. The weather itself, the heat and cold of summer and winter, was, we may believe, of another temper altogether.

Non era stato necessario che parlassero. Avevano pensato le stesse cose e lui aveva risposto senza che lei dovesse chiedere nulla. Era là in piedi e stendeva le mani su tutta la debolezza e la sofferenza dell'umanità; le parve che esaminasse, con tolleranza e compassione, il loro destino finale.

Saltando do cavalo, ele deu a impressão de que em sua fúria iria desafiar a correnteza. Com água até os joelhos, lançou na direção da mulher infiel todos os insultos que desde sempre pesam sobre seu sexo. Falsa, volúvel, inconstante, ele a chamou; demônio, adúltera, traidora; e as águas em turbilhão guardaram suas palavras e atiraram a seus pés um jarro quebrado e um pedacinho de palha.

Quanh Ä'ây, nó nghÄ©, kh?a nh?ng ngón tay c?a nó trong lòng nÆ°á»›c, có má»™t con thuy?n Ä'ã b? ??m, nó th?m thì má»™t cách mÆ¡ màng, ná»­a mê ná»­a t?nh, chúng ta b? m?ng t?ng ng??i, Ä'Æ¡n Ä'á»™c bi?t bao.

All I could do was to offer you an opinion upon one minor point — a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction; and that, as you will see, leaves the great problem of the true nature of woman and the true nature of fiction unsolved.

Poiché vi sono momenti nei quali non si può pensare né sentire. E se non si può né pensare né sentire, allora e che punto si è?

they spoke of marriage always as a catastrophe)

she often went into her garden and got from her flowers a peace which men and women never gave her.

Life, with its varieties, its irreticenses, had been laid under a pavement of monuments and wreaths and drugged into a stiff yet staring corpse by discipline.

As for the beauty of women, it is like the light on the sea, never constant to a single wave. They all have it; they all lose it. Now she is dull and thick as bacon; now transparent as a hanging glass.

que como aficionados se nos ha negado toda instrucción en ese arte; que lo que sabemos lo hemos aprendido nosotros mismos; y que imprimimos en los ratos libres de una vida que dedicamos a otras cosas.

Fending for oneself alone on a desert island is really no laughing matter. It is no crying one either

They came there regularly every evening drawn by some need. It was as if the water floated off and set sailing thoughts which had grown stagnant on dry land, and gave to their bodies even some sort of physical relief. First, the pulse of colour flooded the bay with blue, and the heart expanded with it and the body swam, only the next instant to be checked and chilled by the prickly blackness on the ruffled waves.

She stood there: she listened. She heard the names of the stars.

It was a miserable machine, an inefficient machine, she thought, the human apparatus for painting or feeling; it always broke down at the critical moment.

Kendisi tek bir ÅŸeyi deÄŸil, her ÅŸeyi söylemek istiyordu. An?n bask?s?, tela?? insana her zaman hedefini ÅŸa??rt?yordu. Sözcükler telaÅŸ ve heyecanla yanlara kaç?yor, istenilen hedefe ulaÅŸam?yordu. Ä°nsan, bedenin bu heyecanlar?n?, sözcüklerle nas?l anlatabilirdi? Aradaki boÅŸluÄŸu nas?l anlatabilirdi? Duyumsayan insan?n zihni deÄŸil, bedeni idi.

Não acredito em separações. Não somos seres individuais. Para mais, tenho vontade de alargar a minha colecção de observações valiosas a respeito da verdadeira natureza humana. Por certo que a minha obra constará de muitos volumes e abrangerá de todos os tipos conhecidos de homens e mulheres.