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  • Virginia Woolf Quotes   817
  • While fame impedes and constricts, obscurity wraps about a man like a mist; obscurity is dark, ample, and free; obscurity lets the mind take its way unimpeded. Over the obscure man is poured the merciful suffusion of darkness. None knows where he goes or comes. He may seek the truth and speak it; he alone is free; he alone is truthful, he alone is at peace.
  • 5 years ago



    Tags : Virginia Woolf Quotes , Humility Quotes , Dark Quotes
  • The good diarist writes either for himself alone or for a posterity so distant that it can safely hear every secret and justly weigh every motive. For such an audience there is need neither of affectation nor of restraint. Sincerity is what they ask, detail, and volume; skill with the pen comes in conveniently, but brilliance is not necessary; genius is a hindrance even; and should you know your business and do it manfully, posterity will let you off mixing with great men, reporting famous affairs, or having lain with the first ladies in the land.
  • 5 years ago



    Tags : Virginia Woolf Quotes , Writing Quotes , Men Quotes
  • But when the door shuts on us, all that vanishes. The shell-like covering which our souls have excreted to house themselves, to make for themselves a shape distinct from others, is broken, and there is left of all these wrinkles and roughnesses a central oyster of perceptiveness, an enormous eye. How beautiful a street is in winter!
  • 5 years ago



    Tags : Virginia Woolf Quotes , Beautiful Quotes , Eye Quotes
  • Beauty was not everything. Beauty had this penalty — it came too readily, came too completely. It stilled life — froze it.
  • 5 years ago



    Tags : Virginia Woolf Quotes
  • When the Day of Judgment dawns and people, great and small, come marching in to receive their heavenly rewards, the Almighty will gaze upon the mere bookworms and say to Peter, “Look, these need no reward. We have nothing to give them. They have loved reading.
  • 5 years ago



    Tags : Virginia Woolf Quotes , Reading Quotes , People Quotes
  • And it was awfully strange, he thought, how she still had the power, as she came tinkling, rustling, still had the power as she came across the room, to make the moon, which he detested, rise at Bourton on the terrace in the summer sky.
  • 5 years ago



    Tags : Virginia Woolf Quotes , Summer Quotes , Moon Quotes