I enjoy almost everything. Yet I have some restless searcher in me. Why is there not a discovery in life? Something one can lay hands on and say โThis is itโ? My depression is a harassed feeling. Iโm looking: but thatโs not it โ thatโs not it. What is it? And shall I die before I find it?
Virginia WoolfThe immense success of our life is, I think, that our treasure is hid away; or rather in such common things that nothing can touch it.
Virginia WoolfShe felt, with her hand on the nursery door, that community of feeling with other people which emotion gives as if the walls of partition had become so thin that practically (the feeling was one of relief and happiness) it was all one stream.
Virginia Woolf