Mrs Dalloway is always giving parties to cover the silence

Never are voices so beautiful as on a winter's evening, when dusk almost hides the body, and they seem to issue from nothingness with a note of intimacy seldom heard by day.

What does the brain matter compared with the heart?

I am made and remade continually. Different people draw different words from me.

I find that when I've seen a certain number of people my mind becomes like an old match box -- the part one strikes on, I mean.

For this moment, this one moment, we are together. I press you to me. Come, pain, feed on me. Bury your fangs in my flesh. Tear me asunder. I sob, I sob.

To put it in a nutshell, he was afflicted with a love of literature. It was the fatal nature of this disease to substitute a phantom for reality.