As I grow old I hate the writing of letters more and more, and like getting them better and better.
Virginia WoolfWhen the shriveled skin of the ordinary is stuffed out with meaning, it satisfies the senses amazingly.
Virginia WoolfHe looked very old. He looked, James thought, getting his head now against the Lighthouse, now against the waste of waters running away into the open, like some old stone lying on the sand; he looked as if he had become physically what was always at the back of both of their minds-that loneliness which was for both of them the truth about things.
Virginia Woolf