“For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others... and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures.”
Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse
Shaggonwagon
2021-09-13 09:40:11 +0000 UTCDanielle Colby Striptease Historian
2021-09-11 16:01:41 +0000 UTCKim Rice
2021-09-11 12:08:06 +0000 UTC