top of page
.png){kind=small}
"Stepping through fields of flowers and taking to her breast buds that had broken and lambs that had fallen, with the stars in her eyes and the wind in her hair- He took her bag."
Standard
Customized
Exlpore more Imagery quotes
"It is photography itself that creates the illusion of innocence. Its ironies of frozen narrative lend to its subjects an apparent unawareness that they will change or die. It is the future they are innocent of. Fifty years on we look at them with the godly knowledge of how they turne dout after all - who they married, the date of their death - with no thought for who will one day be holding photographs of us."
"She looked like a head-on collision between a fashion plate and a nightmare."
"We rode on the winds of the rising storm,We ran to the sounds of the thunder.We danced among the lightning bolts,and tore the world asunder."
"The dust was antique spice, burnt maple leaves, a prickling blue that teemed and sifted to earth. Swarming its own shadows, the dust filtered over the tents."
"His eyes were open wounds beneath his heavy brows, a blue as dark as the sea by night."
Explore more quotes by Virginia Woolf
"James was sixteen, Cam seventeen, perhaps. She had looked round for someone who was not there, for Mrs. Ramsay, presumably. But there was only kind Mrs. Beckwith turning over her sketches under the lamp. Then, being tired, her mind still rising and falling with the sea, the taste and smell that places have after long absence possessing her, the candles wavering in her eyes, she had lost herself and gone under. It was a wonderful night, starlit; the waves sounded as they went upstairs; the moon surprised them, enormous, pale, as they passed the staircase window. She had slept at once."
"There is much to support the view that it is clothes that wear us, and not we, them; we may make them take the mould of arm or breast, but they mould our hearts, our brains, our tongues to their liking."
"The truth is, I often like women. I like their unconventionality. I like their completeness. I like their anonymity."
"The telephone, which interrupts the most serious conversations and cuts short the most weighty observations, has a romance of its own."
"It is the nature of the artist to mind excessively what is said about him. Literature is strewn with the wreckage of men who have minded beyond reason the opinions of others."
"Let a man get up and say, Behold, this is the truth, and instantly I perceive a sandy cat filching a piece of fish in the background. Look, you have forgotten the cat, I say."
"Who shall measure the hat and violence of the poet's heart when caught and tangled in a woman's body?"
bottom of page