Eloquent, profoundly melancholic, intelligent and deeply wise, sentimental and provocative yet always raw in terms of emotion, Virginia Woolf was a woman entirely ahead of her time. This is made with much love and respect in her memory.
But she said, sitting on the bus going up Shaftesbury Avenue, she felt herself everywhere; not ‘here, here, here’; and she tapped the back of the seat; but everywhere. She waved her hand, going up Shaftesbury Avenue. She was all that. So that to know her, or any one, one must seek out the people who completed them; even the places. Odd affinities she had with people she had never spoke to, some women in the street, some man behind a counter - even trees, or barns. It ended in a transcendental theory which, with her horror of death, allowed her to believe, or say that she believed (for all her scepticism), that since our apparitions, the part of us which appears, are so momentary compared with the other, the unseen part of us, which spreads wide, the unseen might survive, be recovered somehow attached to this person or that, or even haunting certain places, after death. Perhaps - perhaps.
Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (via bohemea)
(via bohemea)
- ? Apr 23rd 2012
Suddenly descended upon me the obscure, the mystic sense of adoration, of completeness that triumphed over chaos.
Virginia Woolf,The Waves.
- ? Mar 19th 2012
They both smiled, standing there. They both felt a common hilarity, excited by the moving waves; and then by the swift cutting race of a sailing boat, which, having sliced a curve in the bay, stopped; shivered; let its sails drop down; and then, with a natural instinct to complete the picture, after this swift movement, both of them looked at the dunes far away, and instead of merriment felt come over them some sadness — because the thing was completed partly, and partly because distant views seem to outlast by a million years (Lily thought) the gazer and to be communing already with a sky which beholds an earth entirely at rest.
Virginia Woolf,To The Lighthouse.
- ? Jul 19th 2011
Then suddenly descended upon me the obscure, the mystic sense of adoration, of completeness that triumphed over chaos. Nobody saw my poised and intent figure as I stood at the open door. Nobody guessed the need I had to offer my being to one god; and perish, and disappear.
Virginia Woolf,The Waves.
- ? Jun 12th 2011
