Love Quotes

(...) Sir Boris had fought and killed the Paynim; Sir Gawain, the Turk; Sir Miles, the Pole; Sir Andrew, the Frank; Sir Richard, the Austrian; Sir Jordan, the Frenchman; and Sir Herbert, the Spaniard. But of all that killing and campaigning, that dri...

Virginia Woolf

To whom can I expose the urgency of my own passion?…There is nobody—here among these grey arches, and moaning pigeons, and cheerful games and tradition and emulation, all so skilfully organised to prevent feeling alone.

Virginia Woolf

Shakespeare is getting flyblown; a paternal government might well forbid writing about him, as they put his monument at Stratford beyond the reach of scribbling fingers. With all this buzz of criticism about, one may hazard one's conjectures privatel...

Virginia Woolf

But love – don’t we all talk a great deal of nonsense about it? What does one mean? ... It’s only a story one makes up in one’s mind about another person, and one knows all the time it isn’t true. Of course one knows; why, one’s always ta...

Virginia Woolf

The melancholy river bears us on. When the moon comes through the trailing willow boughs, I see your face, I hear your voice and the bird singing as we pass the osier bed. What are you whispering? Sorrow, sorrow. Joy, joy. Woven together, like reeds ...

Virginia Woolf

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 lo...

Virginia Woolf

When you consider things like the stars, our affairs don't seem to matter very much, do they?

Virginia Woolf

To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face, and to know it for what it is...at last, to love it for what it is, and then, to put it away...

Virginia Woolf

The passion to teach, to share deeply experienced “lessons from life,” is embedded in all literature.

Vera B. Williams

I burn, I shiver, out of this sun, into this shadow.

Virginia Woolf

Pale, with dark hair, the one who is coming is melancholy, romantic. And I am arch and fluent and capricious; for he is melancholy, he is romantic. He is here.

Virginia Woolf

The weather varies between heavy fog and pale sunshine; My thoughts follow the exact same process.

Virginia Woolf

What people had had shed and left--a pair of shoes, a shooting cap, some faded skirts and coats in wardrobes--those alone kept the human shape and in the emptiness indicated how once they were filled and animated; how once hands were busy with hooks ...

Virginia Woolf

Ho talvolta sognato che, quando verra' il giorno del Giudizio, l'Onnipotente dira' a Pietro, vedendoci arrivare con i nostri libri sotto braccio: "Guarda, questi non hanno bisogno di alcun compenso. Non abbiamo nulla da dare loro. Questi hanno amato ...

Virginia Woolf

the battered woman--for she wore a skirt--with her right hand exposed, her left clutching at her side, stood singing of love--love which has lasted a million years, she sang, love which prevails, and millions of years ago, her lover, who had been dea...

Virginia Woolf

If you drink the good wine of the noble countess, you have to entertain her less desirable friends.

Virginia Woolf

Flinging himself from his horse, he made, in his rage, as if he would breast the flood. Standing knee-deep in water he hurled at the faithless woman all the insults that have ever been the lot of her sex. Faithless, mutable, fickle, he called her; de...

Virginia Woolf

My head is a hive of words that won't settle.

Virginia Woolf

Needless to say, the business of living interferes with the solitude so needed for any work of the imagination. Here's what Virginia Woolf said in her diary about the sticky issue: "I've shirked two parties, and another Frenchman, and buying a hat, a...

Virginia Woolf

Writing is like sex. First you do it for love, then you do it for your friends, and then you do it for money.

Virginia Woolf

As for my next book, I won't write it till it has grown heavy in my mind like a ripe pear; pendant, gravid, asking to be cut or it will fall.

Virginia Woolf