Virginia Woolf

It was a miserable machine, an inefficient machine, she thought, the human apparatus for painting or for feeling; it always broke down at the critical moment; heroically, one must force it on. ↗

— Virginia Woolf

#human-condition #art

I feel my brains, like a pear, to see if it's ripe; it will be exquisite by September. ↗

— Virginia Woolf

#funny #funny

There is the strange power we have of changing facts by the force of the imagination. ↗

— Virginia Woolf

#imagination #change

One should be a painter. As a writer, I feel the beauty, which is almost entirely colour, very subtle, very changeable, running over my pen, as if you poured a large jug of champagne over a hairpin. ↗

— Virginia Woolf

#colour #writing #beauty

Love and religion! thought Clarissa, going back into the drawing room, tingling all over. How detestable, how detestable they are! ↗

— Virginia Woolf

#religion #love

When I am grown up I shall carry a notebook—a fat book with many pages, methodically lettered. I shall enter my phrases. ↗

— Virginia Woolf

#writing-life #life

It was as if someone had taken a tiny bead of pure life and decking it as lightly as possible with down and feathers, had set it dancing and zigzagging to show us the true nature of life. ↗

— Virginia Woolf

#death

There is a coherence in things, a stability; something... is immune from change and shines out... in the face of the flowing, the fleeting, the spectral, like a ruby. ↗

— Virginia Woolf

#philosophical #change

Now this is very profound, what rhythm is, and goes far deeper than words. A sight, an emotion, creates this wave in the mind, long before it makes words to fit it ... ↗

— Virginia Woolf

#rhythm #inspirational

Death is woven in with the violets,” said Louis. “Death and again death.”) ↗

— Virginia Woolf

#violets #death