Virginia Woolf, Orlando Quotes
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As long as she thinks of a man, nobody objects to a woman thinking.
Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice answering a voice?
He who robs us of our dreams robs us of our life.
the whole of Victorian literature done up in grey paper & neatly tied with string
The flower bloomed and faded. The sun rose and sank. The lover loved and went. And what the poets said in rhyme, the young translated into practice.
For while directly we say that it [the length of human life] is ages long, we are reminded that it is briefer than the fall of a rose leaf to the ground.
All extremes of feeling are allied with madness.
Nothing thicker than a knife's blade separates happiness from melancholy.
Vain trifles as they seem, clothes have, they say, more important offices than to merely keep us warm. They change our view of the world and the world's view of us.
But Sasha was from Russia, where the sunsets are longer, the dawns less sudden and sentences are often left unfinished from doubt as how to best end them.
Love, the poet said, is woman's whole existence.
Are we so made that we have to take death in small doses daily or we could not go on with the business of living?
He would give every penny he has (such is the malignity of the germ) to write one little book and become famous yet all the gold in Peru will not buy him the treasure of a well-turned line.
Orlando naturally loved solitary places, vast views, and to feel himself for ever and ever and ever alone.
Green in nature is one thing, green in literature another.
Better was it to go unknown and leave behind you an arch, then to burn like a meteor and leave no dust.
Thoughts are divine.
All the time she writing the world had continued.
. . . clumsiness is often mated with a love of solitude.
By the truth we are undone. Life is a dream. 'Tis the waking that kills us. He who robs us of our dreams robs us of our life.