“anyone who’s worth anything reads just what he likes, as the mood takes him, and with extravagant enthusiasm.”
Virginia Woolf2 likes
“anyone who’s worth anything reads just what he likes, as the mood takes him, and with extravagant enthusiasm.”
“Every face, every shop, bedroom window, public-house, and dark square is a picture feverishly turned--in search of what? It is the same with books. What do we seek through millions of pages?”
“What's the use trying to read Shakespeare, especially in one of those little paper editions whose pages get ruffled, or stuck together with sea-water?”
“When the body escaped mutilation, seldom did the heart go to the grave unscarred.”
“I like books whose virtue is all drawn together in a page or two. I like sentences that don't budge though armies cross them.”
“Indeed there has never been any explanation of the ebb and flow in our veins--of happiness and unhappiness.”
“It seems that a profound, impartial, and absolutely just opinion of our fellow-creatures is utterly unknown. Either we are men, or we are women. Either we are cold, or we are sentimental. Either we are young, or growing old. In any case life is but a procession of shadows, and God knows why it is that we embrace them so eagerly, and see them depart with such anguish, being shadows. And why, if this -- and much more than this is true -- why are we yet surprised in the window corner by a sudden vision that the young man in the chair is of all things in the world the most real, the most solid, the best known to us--why indeed? For the moment after we know nothing about him. Such is the manner of our seeing. Such the conditions of our love.”
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