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.
Virginia WoolfWhen people are happy they have a reserve upon which to draw, whereas she was like a wheel without a tyre
Virginia WoolfYet, it is true, poetry is delicious; the best prose is that which is most full of poetry.
Virginia WoolfBut how entirely I live in my imagination; how completely depend upon spurts of thought, coming as I walk, as I sit; things churning up in my mind and so making a perpetual pageant, which is to be my happiness.
Virginia Woolf