When the shriveled skin of the ordinary is stuffed out with meaning, it satisfies the senses amazingly.
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 WoolfSafe! safe! safe!' the pulse of the house beats wildly. Waking, I cry 'Oh, is this your buried treasure? The light in the heart.
Virginia Woolf