Moreover, a book is not made of sentences laid end to end, but of sentences built, if an image helps, into arcades or domes.
Virginia WoolfNow, aged 50, I'm just poised to shoot forth quite free straight and undeflected my bolts whatever they are.
Virginia WoolfWe are about to part," said Neville. "Here are the boxes; here are the cabs. There is Percival in his billycock hat. He will forget me. He will leave my letters lying about among guns and dogs unaswered. I shall send him poems and he will perhaps reply with a picture post card. But it is for that that I love him. I shall propose a meeting - under a clock, by some Cross; and shall wait and he will not come. It is for that that I love him.
Virginia Woolf