Showing posts with label Virginia Woolf. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Virginia Woolf. Show all posts

Sunday, April 29, 2012

120. OFTEN ...

120.
Often she found herself sitting and looking,
sitting and looking, with her work in her hands
until she became the thing she looked at –
that light for example.

{Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse}

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

46. THEN ...

46.
Then cold white lights went over the fields;
and went out; and I stood under great trees
waiting for the lights of the bus.

{Virginia Woolf, Selected Diaries}