The mind is the most capricious of insects — flitting, fluttering. – Virginia Woolf
If one could be friendly with women, what a pleasure – the relationship so secret and private compared with relations with men. Why not write about it truthfully? – Virginia Woolf
There is much to support the view that it is clothes that wear us and not we them; we may make them take the mould of arm or breast, but they would mould our hearts, our brains, our tongues to their liking. – Virginia Woolf
Every secret of a writers soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind is written large in his works. – Virginia Woolf