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Virginia Woolf

"Do not start. Do not blush. Let us admit in the privacy of our own society that these things sometimes happen. Sometimes women do like women."

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"Do not start. Do not blush. Let us admit in the privacy of our own society that these things sometimes happen. Sometimes women do like women."

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Amber Hurdle

"Dream your dream; and realize that you are more than just the dreamer, you are the point of origin for its reality."

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Amber Hurdle

"We are all worms but I do believe that I am a glow-worm."

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Amber Hurdle

"She can't help it,' he said. 'She's got the soul of a poet and the emotional makeup of a junkyard dog."

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Amber Hurdle

"Songs of myselfI am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me, The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into new tongue. I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man,.."

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Amber Hurdle

"Who would you impress if the world was blind?"

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Amber Hurdle

"Call me Richard. That's my real name. Call me that."

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Amber Hurdle

"Either way, you were connected. By your desires. By your defiance. By the simple, complicated fact of who you were."

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Amber Hurdle

"I have a dark soul, that doesn't mean I don't love the sun, rainbows and things that emphasize the light."

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Amber Hurdle

"Dreaming and loving and screwing. None of these are identities. Maybe when other people look at us, but not to ourselves. We are so much more complicated than that."

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Amber Hurdle

"She looks like a very young old person, or a very old young person; but then, she's looked that way ever since she was two."

Explore more quotes by Virginia Woolf

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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."
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Virginia Woolf
"I meant to write about death, only life came breaking in as usual."
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Virginia Woolf
"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?"
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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."
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Virginia Woolf
"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."
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Virginia Woolf
"Do you know I get such a passion for reading sometimes its like the other passion -writing- only the wrong side of the carpet."
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Virginia Woolf
"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?"
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Virginia Woolf
"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."
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Virginia Woolf
"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."
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Virginia Woolf
"No doubt we should be, on the whole, much worse off than we are without our astonishing gift for illusion."
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