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 WoolfStyle is a very simple matter; it is all rhythm. Once you get that, you can't use the wrong words.
Virginia WoolfA sort of transaction went on between them, in which she was on one side, and life was on another, and she was always trying to get the better of it, as it was of her.
Virginia Woolf