For now she need not think about anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of — to think; well, not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others. (Virginia Woolfe, To the Lighthouse, p 70)
4 thoughts on “be”
Leave A Comment
Recommended Posts
Elin
Woolf:-)
My favorite writer.
Ella
“Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself”.
Yes, her words are eternal and remarkably wise.
They often feel like consolation in a confused world. (It’s sad she never found her own peace, though).
Ross
She is one of my favourite writers too!
Greetings,
Rossella
Norman
If it’s in your Uni library, you might find Australian John Maze’s book on her interesting.