Virginia Woolf citáty

page 10

„Niektorí ľudia chodia ku kňazom, iní k poézii, ja k priateľom.“

„Chcel som písať o smrti, lenže ako zvyčajne sa do toho vmiesil život.“

„A ty chceš byť básnikom; a ty chceš byť milencom.“

„Mám hlboko skrytú a nevyjadrenú túžbu po niečom, čo presahuje každodenný život.“

„Život je ťažký, fakty sú nekompromisné a prechod do tej bájnej krajiny, kde zhasínajú naše najjasnejšie nádeje a naše krehké kôpky sa utápajú v tme, si vyžaduje predovšetkým odvahu, pravdu a silu vydržať.“

„Ak nehovoríte pravdu o sebe, nemôžete ju hovoriť ani o iných ľuďoch.“

„Pani Dallowayová povedala, že kúpi kvety sama.“

„Umelec je koniec koncov osamelá bytosť.“

„Vyučovať a kázať asi presahuje ľudské schopnosti.“

„Prečo sú ženy … oveľa zaujímavejšie pre mužov ako muži pre ženy?“

„Je zvláštne, ako kreatívna sila privádza celý vesmír naraz do poriadku.“

„Pozoruj na okamih svoju bežnú myseľ v bežný deň.“

„Odvážila by som si tipnúť, že Anon, ktorý napísal toľko básní bez toho, aby ich podpísal, bola často žena.“

„Existuje zvláštna schopnosť meniť fakty silou predstavivosti.“

„Pokiaľ nie som sama sebou, nie som nikto.“

“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.”

“Fatigue is the safest sleeping draught.”

“Happiness is in the quiet, ordinary things. A table, a chair, a book with a paper-knife stuck between the pages. And the petal falling from the rose, and the light flickering as we sit silent.”

“The real novelist, the perfectly simple human being, could go on, indefinitely imaging.”

“For it is probable that when people talk aloud, the selves (of which there may be more than two thousand) are conscious of disserverment, and are trying to communicate but when communication is established there is nothing more to be said.”

“For nothing was simply one thing.”

“Night had come—night that she loved of all times, night in which the reflections in the dark pool of the mind shine more clearly than by day.”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever met who seems to have the faintest conception of what I mean when I say a thing.”

“Death was defiance. Death was an attempt to communicate; people feeling the impossibility of reaching the center which, mystically, evaded them; closeness drew apart; rapture faded, one was alone. There was an embrace in death.”

“Odd how the creative power at once brings the whole universe to order”

“Chastity… has, even now, a religious importance in a woman's life, and has so wrapped itself round with nerves and instincts that to cut it free and bring it to the light of day demands courage of the rarest.”

“Once conform, once do what other people do because they do it, and a lethargy steals over all the finer nerves and faculties of the soul.”

“When people are happy they have a reserve upon which to draw, whereas she was like a wheel without a tyre”

“For the young people could not talk. And why should they? Shout, embrace, swing, be up at dawn…”

“Effort ceases. Time flaps on the mast. There we stop; there we stand. Rigid, the skeleton of habit alone upholds the human frame”

“what she loved: life, London, this moment of June.”

“Distorted realities have always been my cup of tea.”

“It was a miserable machine, an inefficient machine, she thought, the human apparatus for painting or for feeling; it always broke down at the critical moment; heroically, one must force it on.”

“Why does Samuel Butler say, 'Wise men never say what they think of women'? Wise men never say anything else apparently.”

“… I'm terrified of passive acquiescence. I live in intensity.”

“so that the monotonous fall of the waves on the beach, which for the most part beat a measured and soothing tattoo to her thoughts seemed consolingly to repeat over and over again…”