Again, somehow, one saw life, a pure bead. I lifted the pencil again, useless though I knew it … - Virginia Woolf

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I care only to know, if possible, the lasting meaning that lies in all religious doctrine from the beginning till now.

Virginia Woolf

Again, somehow, one saw life, a pure bead. I lifted the pencil again, useless though I knew it to be. But even as I did so, the unmistakable tokens of death showed themselves. The body relaxed, and instantly grew stiff. The struggle was over. The insignificant little creature now knew death. As I looked at the dead moth, this minute wayside triumph of so great a force over so mean an antagonist filled me with wonder. Just as life had been strange a few minutes before, so death was now as strange.

Littles, Mean, Pencil, Relaxed, Struggle

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A feminist is any woman who tells the truth about her life

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Let us simmer over our incalculable cauldron, our enthralling confusion, our hotchpotch of impulses, our perpetual miracle - for the soul throws up wonders every second. Movement and change are the essence of our being; rigidity is death; conformity is death; let us say what comes into our heads, repeat ourselves, contradict ourselves, fling out the wildest nonsense, and follow the most fantastic fancies without caring what the world does or thinks or says. For nothing matters except life.

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I am in the mood to dissolve in the sky.

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I am rooted, but I flow.

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Beauty was not everything. Beauty had this penalty — it came too readily, came too completely. It stilled life — froze it.

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