Virginia Woolf Quotes

Adeline Virginia Woolf (née Stephen; 25 January 1882 – 28 March 1941) was an English writer and one of the foremost modernists of the twentieth century.

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Virginia Woolf


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

Virginia Woolf


If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people.

Virginia Woolf


Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more.

Virginia Woolf


Some people go to priests; others to poetry; I to my friends.

Virginia Woolf


Fiction is like a spider's web, attached ever so slightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners. Often the attachment is scarcely perceptible.

Virginia Woolf


Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by his heart, and his friends can only read the title.

Virginia Woolf


This is not writing at all. Indeed, I could say that Shakespeare surpasses literature altogether, if I knew what I meant.

Virginia Woolf


Boredom is the legitimate kingdom of the philanthropic.

Virginia Woolf


Masterpieces are not single and solitary births; they are the outcome of many years of thinking in common, of thinking by the body of the people, so that the experience of the mass is behind the single voice.

Virginia Woolf


If one could be friendly with women, what a pleasure - the relationship so secret and private compared with relations with men. Why not write about it truthfully?

Virginia Woolf


The poet gives us his essence, but prose takes the mold of the body and mind.

Virginia Woolf


The streets of London have their map, but our passions are uncharted. What are you going to meet if you turn this corner?

Virginia Woolf


Our apparitions, the things you know us by, are simply childish. Beneath it is all dark, it is all spreading, it is unfathomably deep; but now and again we rise to the surface and that is what you see us by.

Virginia Woolf


My own brain is to me the most unaccountable of machinery - always buzzing, humming, soaring roaring diving, and then buried in mud. And why? What's this passion for?

Virginia Woolf


Life stand still here.

Virginia Woolf