For once the disease of reading has laid upon the system it weakens so that it falls an easy prey to that other scourge which dwells in the ink pot and festers in the quill. The wretch takes to writing.
Virginia WoolfThe beauty of the world, which is so soon to perish, has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder.
Virginia WoolfBut I don't think of the future, or the past, I feast on the moment. This is the secret of happiness, but only reached now in middle age.
Virginia Woolf