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  • Virginia Woolf Quotes   817
  • This self now as I leant over the gate looking down over fields rolling in waves of colour beneath me made no answer. He threw up no opposition. He attempted no phrase. His fist did not form. I waited. I listened. Nothing came, nothing. I cried then with a sudden conviction of complete desertion. Now there is nothing. No fin breaks the waste of this immeasurable sea. Life has destroyed me. No echo comes when I speak, no varied words. This is more truly death than the death of friends, than the death of youth.
  • 5 years ago



    Tags : Virginia Woolf Quotes , Echoes Quotes , Self Quotes
  • What has praise and fame to do with poetry? Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice answering a voice? So that all this chatter and praise, and blame and meeting people who admired one and meeting people who did not admire one was as ill suited as could be to the thing itself- a voice answering a voice.
  • 5 years ago



    Tags : Virginia Woolf Quotes , Writing Quotes , Voice Quotes
  • The taste for books was an early one. As a child he was sometimes found at midnight by a page still reading. They took his taper away, and he bred glow-worms to serve his purpose. They took the glow-worms away and he almost burnt the house down with a tinder.
  • 5 years ago



    Tags : Virginia Woolf Quotes , Children Quotes , Book Quotes