L'Amour, c'est la haine. C'est le torrent sombre et furieux qui nous donne le vertige quand nous nous penchons sur lui. Nous sommes debout sur le rebord, mais le vertige nous prend quand nous regardons en bas.
- 1931 -
Virginia Woolf
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So that is marriage, Lily thought, a man and a woman looking at a girl throwing a ball
By Virginia Woolf
I often wish I'd got on better with your father,' he said.
By Virginia Woolf
Nothing thicker than a knife's blade separates happiness from melancholy.
By Virginia Woolf
I desired always to stretch the night and fill it fuller and fuller with dreams.
By Virginia Woolf
She blazed. She kindled. Out of the night she burnt like a white star.
By Virginia Woolf
Infinite sensations. Pearly night air.
By Virginia Woolf
Melancholy were the sounds on a winter's night.
By Virginia Woolf
I begin to long for some little language such as lovers use, broken words, inarticulate words, like the shuffling of feet on pavement.
By Virginia Woolf
To love makes one solitary.
By Virginia Woolf
What does the brain matter compared with the heart?
By Virginia Woolf
Love, the poet said, is woman's whole existence.
By Virginia Woolf
One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.
By Virginia Woolf
Among the tortures and devastations of life is this then—our friends are not able to finish their stories.
By Virginia Woolf
You send a girl to school in order to make friends - the right sort.
By Virginia Woolf
Habits gradually change the face of one's life as time changes one's physical face; & one does not know it.
Virginia Woolf