Virginia Woolf Short Quotes

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That complete statement which is literature.

Virginia Woolf
Lord, how tired one gets of one's own writing.

Virginia Woolf
That great Cathedral space which was childhood.

Virginia Woolf
To know whom to write for is to know how to write.

Virginia Woolf
Writing is still like heaving bricks over a wall...

Virginia Woolf
It's been a perpetual discovery, my life. A miracle.

Virginia Woolf
Mrs Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.

Virginia Woolf
Jealousy... survives every other passion of mankind...

Virginia Woolf
It's the writing, not the being read, that excites me.

Virginia Woolf
Nothing has really happened until it has been described.

Virginia Woolf
Examine for a moment an ordinary mind on an ordinary day.

Virginia Woolf
The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.

Virginia Woolf
At 46 one must be a miser; only have time for essentials.

Virginia Woolf
Rigid, the skeleton of habit alone upholds the human frame.

Virginia Woolf
The humane art which owes its origin to the love of friends.
On letter-writing

Virginia Woolf
A party makes things either much more real or much less real.

Virginia Woolf
Some people go to priests; others to poetry; I to my friends.

Virginia Woolf
The flowers flashed before they faded. She watched them flash.

Virginia Woolf
They went in and out of each other's minds without any effort.

Virginia Woolf
It might be possible that the world itself is without meaning.

Virginia Woolf
Great bodies of people are never responsible for what they do.

Virginia Woolf
What is amusing now had to be taken in desperate earnest once.

Virginia Woolf
I like people to be unhappy because I like them to have souls.

Virginia Woolf
Humour is the first of the gifts to perish in a foreign tongue.

Virginia Woolf
For the eye has this strange property: it rests only on beauty.

Virginia Woolf
But I think I'm coloured by my own wishes, & experimental mood.

Virginia Woolf
Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.

Virginia Woolf
Writing is the profound pleasure and being read the superficial.

Virginia Woolf
I meant to write about death, only life came breaking in as usual

Virginia Woolf
For our penitence deserves a glimpse only; our toil respite only.

Virginia Woolf