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Virginia Woolf

"Never did anybody look so sad. Bitter and black, halfway down, in the darkness, in the shaft which ran from the sunlight to the depths, perhaps a tear formed; a tear fell; the waves swayed this way and that, received it, and were at rest. Never did anybody look so sad."

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"Never did anybody look so sad. Bitter and black, halfway down, in the darkness, in the shaft which ran from the sunlight to the depths, perhaps a tear formed; a tear fell; the waves swayed this way and that, received it, and were at rest. Never did anybody look so sad."

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Amber Hurdle

"He fell on his knees on that barren ground, Staring at the sky. And the sky opened up for him by raining. With the rain, every drop of his tear was washed down filling the cracks beneath. nobody got to see his pain and agony. And yet again he remained a mystery that was never solved."

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Amber Hurdle

"Sugar cane reach up to GodAnd every baby cryingShame the blanket of my nightAnd all my days are dying."

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Amber Hurdle

"The saddest sorrow is to desire death while you have life."

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Amber Hurdle

"I thought I could describe a state; make a map of sorrow. Sorrow, hoever, turns out to be not a state but a process."

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Amber Hurdle

"The worst kind of crying wasn't the kind everyone could see- the wailing on street corners, the tearing at clothes. No, the worst kind happened when your soul wept and no matter what you did, there was no way to comfort it."

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Amber Hurdle

"When we are unable to find tranquility within ourselves it is useless to seek it elsewhere."

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Amber Hurdle

"Sorrow is not itself evidence of maladjustment but of the adjustment process itself."

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Amber Hurdle

"What need is there to weep over parts of life? The whole of it calls for tears."

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Amber Hurdle

"But sing no more this bitter tale that wears my heart away."

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Amber Hurdle

"I believe the Universe desires for us to choose to love as much as possible while we are here."

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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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Virginia Woolf
"He felt himself now, as he had often fancied other people, adrift on the stream, and far removed from control of it, a man with no grasp upon circumstances any longer. Old battered man loafing at the doors of public-houses now seemed to be his fellows, and he felt, as he supposed them to feel, a mingling of envy and hatred towards those who passed quickly and certainly to a goal of their own. They, too, saw things very thin and shadowy, and were wafted about by the lightest breath of wind. For the substantial world, with its prospect of avenues leading on and on to the invisible distance, had slipped from him."
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