top of page
.png){kind=small}
"The way to rock oneself back into writing is this. First gentle exercise in the air. Second the reading of good literature. It is a mistake to think that literature can be produced from the raw. One must get out of life...one must become externalised; very, very concentrated, all at one point, not having to draw upon the scattered parts of one's character, living in the brain."
Standard
Customized
Exlpore more Inspirational quotes
"When you're crying, your tears may be watering the seeds of your come-back."
"How would your life be different if.You approached all relationships with authenticity and honesty? Let today be the day.You dedicate yourself to building relationships on the solid foundation of truth and authenticity."
"Tombstones and legacies are for the dead.I will live for now. Impact the world for now. Change lives for now. Laugh for now. Love for now. I will experience the length, depth, and breadth of life for now. Later will come soon enough and I will be so tired that I shall welcome the rest it offers.. But for now, ONWARD!"
"It's hard not to stand in awe and enchantment with the beauty in which nature expresses herself."
"Within the scope of universal time, it seems I'll be dead a whole lot longer than I'll be alive. So while I'm here, I will not worship death; I'll worship life. I'll live life to the fullest. victories, losses, successes, mistakes, love, and hurt. I'll live and learn to the fullest; without apology."
"What you dream of, you will possess."
"The final proof of greatness lies in being able to endure criticism without resentment."
"Never question the power of one! Throughout history it has been the actions of only one person who has in inspired the movement of change."
"A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy?"
"Hope itself is like a star- not to be seen in the sunshine of prosperity, and only to be discovered in the night of adversity."
Explore more quotes by Virginia Woolf
"A woman, she had provoked this horror; a woman, she shouldh ave known how to deal with it. It was immesley to her discredit, sexually, to stand there dumb. One said - what did one say? - Oh, Mr. Ramsay! Dear Mr. Ramsay! That was what that kind old lady who sketched, Mrs. Beckwith, would have said instantly, and rightly. But, no. They stood there, isolated from the rest of the world. His immesnse self-pity, his demand for sympathy poured and and spread itself in pools at her feet, and all she did, miserable sinner that she was, was to draw her skirts a little closer round her ankles, lest she should get wet."
"How then did it work out, this? How did one judge people, think of them? How did one add up this and that and conclude that it was liking one felt, or disliking?"
"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."
"He should be very proud of Andrew if he got a scholarship, he said. She would be just as proud of him if he didn't, she answered. They disagreed always about this, but it did not matter. She liked him to believe in scholarships, and he liked her to be proud of Andrew whatever he did."
"Do you know I get such a passion for reading sometimes its like the other passion -writing- only the wrong side of the carpet."
"If Shakespeare had never existed, he asked, would the world have differed much from what it is today? Does the progress of civilization depend upon great men? Is the lot of the average human being better now that in the time of the Pharaohs?"
"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."
"Praise and blame alike mean nothing. No, delightful as the pastime of measuring may be, it is the most futile of all occupations, and to submit to the decrees of the measurers the most servile of attitudes."
"No doubt we should be, on the whole, much worse off than we are without our astonishing gift for illusion."
bottom of page