For this is the truth about our soul, he thought, who fish-like inhabits deep seas and plies among obscurities threading her way between the boles of giant weeds, over sun-flickered spaces and on and on into gloom, cold, deep, inscrutable; suddenly she shoots to the surface and sports on the wind-wrinkled waves; that is, has a positive need to brush, scrape, kindle herself, gossiping.
More Quotes from Virginia Woolf:There is no room for the impurities of literature in an essay.
The poet gives us his essence, but prose takes the mold of the body and mind.
Her only gift was knowing people almost by instinct, she thought, walking on. If you put her in a room with someone, up went her back like a cat's; or she purred.
If you insist upon fighting to protect me, or 'our' country, let it be understood soberly and rationally between us that you are fighting to gratify a sex instinct which I cannot share; to procure benefits where I have not shared and probably will not share.
Yes, she thought, laying down her brush in extreme fatigues, I have had my vision.
He turned from the sight of human ignorance and human fate and the sea eating the ground we stand on, which, had he been able to contemplate it fixedly might have led to something; and found consolation in trifles so slight compared with the august theme just now before him that he was disposed to slur that comfort over, to deprecate it, as if to be caught happy in a world of misery was for an honest man the most despicable of crimes.
Readers Who Like This Quotation Also Like:Based on Topics: Gossip Quotes, Mind Quotes, Sadness Quotes, Soul Quotes, Thought & Thinking Quotes, Truth Quotes, Weeds Quotes
Based on Keywords: boles, fish-like, inhabits, obscurities, plies, sun-flickered, threading, wind-wrinkled
Friendship is inexplicable, it should not be explained if one doesn't want to kill it.
And whether you're an honest man, or whether you're a thief, depends on whose solicitor has given me my brief.
Bad literature is a form of treason.