Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.

She felt... how life, from being made up of little separate incidents which one lived one by one, became curled and whole like a wave which bore one up with it and threw one down with it, there, with a dash on the beach.

Yes, she thought, laying down her brush in extreme fatigues, I have had my vision.

A good essay must have this permanent quality about it; it must draw its curtain round us, but it must be a curtain that shuts us in not out.

For pleasure has no relish unless we share it.

There was a day when I liked writing letters -- it has gone. Unfortunately the passion for getting them remains.

He smiled the most exquisite smile, veiled by memory, tinged by dreams.