As for the usefulness of poetry, its uses are many. It is the deification of reality. It should make our days holy to us. The poet should speak to all men, for a moment, of that other life of theirs that they have smothered and forgotten.

One's own surroundings means so much to one, when one is feeling miserable.

Vulgarity is, in reality, nothing but a modern, chic, pert descendant of the goddess Dullness.

My personal hobbies are reading, listening to music, and silence.

I am an unpopular electric eel set in a pond of goldfish.

What the reporters are like! They are mad with excitement at the thought of my approaching demise. Kind Sister Farquhar, my nurse, spends much of her time in throwing them downstairs. But one got in the other day, and asked me if I mind the fact that I must die.

Virginia Woolf's writing is no more than glamorous knitting. I believe she must have a pattern somewhere.