Top Virginia Woolf Quotes - Quotesmemo.com

Virginia Woolf Biography

Adeline Virginia Woolf (/wʊlf/; née Stephen; 25 January 1882 – 28 March 1941) was an English writer, who is considered one of the most important modernist 20th-century authors and a pioneer in the use of stream of consciousness as a narrative device.

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Virginia Woolf Quotes

One of the signs of passing youth is the birth of a sense of fellowship with other human beings as we take our place among them.

Beings, Birth, Birthday, Maturity, Passing, Time

Thus when I come to shape here at this table between my hands the story of my life and set it before you as a complete thing, I have to recall things gone far, gone deep, sunk into this life or that and become part of it; dreams, too, things surrounding me, and the inmates, those old half-articulate ghosts who keep up their hauntings by day and night. . . shadows of people one might have been; unborn selves.

Deep, Dream, Inmates, Night, Old, Self

The profound difference that divides the human race is a question of bait - whether to fish with worms or not.

Differences, Fishing, Profound, Question, Race, Worms

The flower bloomed and faded. The sun rose and sank. The lover loved and went. And what the poets said in rhyme, the young translated into practice.

Flower, Poets, Practice, Rose, Sun

But it is just when opinions universally prevail and we have added lip service to their authority that we become sometimes most keenly conscious that we do not believe a word that we are saying.

Added, Believe, Lip, Lips, Opinion, Opinions

Criticism? An artist wants praise. Praise.

Artist, Criticism, Praise, Want

The immense success of our life is, I think, that our treasure is hid away; or rather in such common things that nothing can touch it.

Common, Life, Think, Thinking, Touch, Treasure

There was no freedom in life, and certainly there was none in death.

Death, Freedom, Life

One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.

Dined, Food, Love, Sleep

There is no room for the impurities of literature in an essay.

Essays, Impurities, Literature, Room, Rooms

I prefer men to cauliflowers

Cauliflower, Cauliflowers, Men, Prefer

Ruin, weariness, death, perpetually death, stand grimly to confront the other presence of Elizabethan drama which is life: life compact of frigates, fir trees and ivory, of dolphins and the juice of July flowers, of the milk of unicorns and panthers’ breath, of ropes of pearl, brains of peacocks and Cretan wine.

Dolphins, Drama, Flower, Juice, July, Wine

I attain a different kind of beauty, achieve a symmetry by means of infinite discords, showing all the traces of the mind's passage through the world, achieve in the end some kind of whole made of shivering fragments.

Different, Infinite, Mean, Mind, Whole, World

It is fatal to be a man or woman pure and simple: one must be a woman manly, or a man womanly.

Fatal, Pure, Simple, Woman, Womanly, Women

Behind the cotton wool is hidden a pattern; that we—I mean all human beings—are connected with this; that the whole world is a work of art; that we are parts of the work of art. Hamlet or a Beethoven quartet is the truth about this vast mass that we call the world. But there is no Shakespeare, there is no Beethoven; certainly and emphatically there is no God; we are the words; we are the music; we are the thing itself.

Art, Hamlet, Mean, Quartet, Wool, Work

and even a tea party means apprehension, breakage

Apprehension, Mean, Party, Tea

Let it be fact, one feels, or let it be fiction; the imagination will not serve under two masters simultaneously.

Fact, Fiction, Imagination, Simultaneously, Two

Yet Byron never made tea as you do, who fill the pot so that when you put the lid on the tea spills over. There is a brown pool on the table--it is running among your books and papers. Now you mop it up, clumsily, with your pocket-hankerchief. You then stuff your hankerchief back into your pocket--that is not Byron; that is so essentially you that if I think of you in twenty years' time, when we are both famous, gouty and intolerable, it will be by that scene: and if you are dead, I shall weep.

Among, Book, Clumsily, Gouty, Running, Thinking

women have always been poor, not for two hundred years merely, but from the beginning of time. . . . Women, then, have not had a dog's chance of writing poetry. That is why I have laid so much stress on money and a room of one's own.

Dog, Merely, Poetry, Stress, Time, Writing

There is no room for the impurities of literature in an essay. . . . the essay must be pure--pure like water or pure like wine, but pure from dullness, deadness, and deposits of extraneous matter.

Deadness, Literature, Room, Water, Wine

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