Peter would think her sentimental. So she was. For she had come to feel that it was the only thing worth saying – what one felt. Cleverness was silly. One must say simply what one felt.
Virginia WoolfIndeed there has never been any explanation of the ebb and flow in our veins--of happiness and unhappiness.
Virginia WoolfBy the truth we are undone. Life is a dream. 'Tis the waking that kills us. He who robs us of our dreams robs us of our life.
Virginia Woolf