I am light headed at the moment; why, heaven knows. I have been walking alone down a valley to Rat Farm, if that means anything to you: and that quiet and the cold and the loveliness - one hare, the downs blue green; the stacks, like cakes cut in half - I say all this so excited me; and my own life suddenly became so impressive to me, not as usual shooting meteor like through the sky, but solitary and still that, as I say - well how is the sentence to end? Figure to yourself that sentence, like the shooting star, extinct in an abyss, a dome; of blue; the color of night: which, if dearest Vita you can follow, is now my condition: as I sit waiting for dinner, over the logs. […] Do you really love me? Much? Passionately not reasonably?
Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West dated 3 January 1929. (via violentwavesofemotion)