Virginia Woolf: Frases em inglês (página 14)

“Would there be trees if we didn't see them?”

“It is fatal to be a man or woman pure and simple: one must be a woman manly, or a man womanly.”

“Love and religion! thought Clarissa, going back into the drawing room, tingling all over. How detestable, how detestable they are!”

“How then did it work out, all this? How did one judge people, think of them? How did one add up this and that and conclude that it is liking one felt, or disliking?”

“Oh, I am in love with life!”

“We're all in the dark. We try to find out, but can you imagine anything more ludicrous than one person's opinion of another person? One goes along thinking one knows; but one really doesn't know”

“After that, how unbelievable death was! - that is must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all.”

“Like" and "like" and "like"--but what is the thing that lies beneath the semblance of the thing?”

“She had read a wonderful play about a man who scratched on the wall of his cell and she had felt that was true of life — one scratched on the wall.”

“I know what loves are trembling into fire; how jealousy shoots its green flashes hither and thither; how intricately love crosses love; love makes knots; love brutally tears them apart. I have been knotted; I have been torn apart.”

“Do not start. Do not blush. Let us admit in the privacy of our own society that these things sometimes happen. Sometimes women do like women.”

“For we think back through our mothers if we are women.”

“One should be a painter. As a writer, I feel the beauty, which is almost entirely colour, very subtle, very changeable, running over my pen, as if you poured a large jug of champagne over a hairpin.”

“I am overwhelmed with things I ought to have written about and never found the proper words.”

“It is much more important to be oneself than anything else. Do not dream of influencing other people… Think of things in themselves.”

“We are only lightly covered with buttoned cloth; and beneath these pavements are shells, bones and silence.”

“O friendship, I too will press flowers between the pages of Shakespeare's sonnets!”

“I desired always to stretch the night and fill it fuller and fuller with dreams.”

“But the close withdrew: the hand softened. It was over-- the moment.”