Women alone stir my imagination.

Orlando naturally loved solitary places, vast views, and to feel himself for ever and ever and ever alone.

It is only by putting it into words that I make it whole. This wholeness means that it has lost its power to hurt me; it gives me, perhaps because by doing so I take away the pain, a great delight to put the severed parts together

I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.

Only longing can fill with more of itself.

Now this is very profound, what rhythm is, and goes far deeper than words. A sight, an emotion, creates this wave in the mind, long before it makes words to fit it.

The strange thing about life is that though the nature of it must have been apparent to every one for hundreds of years, no one has left any adequate account of it.