Ruin, weariness, death, perpetually death, stand grimly to confront the other presence of Elizabethan drama which is life: life compact of frigates, fir trees and ivory, of dolphins and the juice of July flowers, of the milk of unicorns and panthers’ breath, of ropes of pearl, brains of peacocks and Cretan wine.
Virginia WoolfSo long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say.
Virginia WoolfI would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.
Virginia WoolfIt 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
Virginia Woolf