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The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.

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Cage Confidence Eyes Freedom Prison Self Love

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Women and fiction remain, so far as I am concerned, unsolved problems.
VIRGINIA WOOLF

Concern Fiction Problem Women Women Empowerment
The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.
VIRGINIA WOOLF

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Illusions are to the soul what atmosphere is to the earth.
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We are the words; we are the music; we are the thing itself.
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And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full of trees and changing leaves.
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I need silence, and to be alone and to go out, and to save one hour to consider what has happened to my world, what death has done to my world.
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Love, the poet said, is woman’s whole existence.
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Second hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack.
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When I cannot see words curling like rings of smoke round me I am in darkness – I am nothing.
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The most extraordinary thing about writing is that when you’ve struck the right vein, tiredness goes. It must be an effort, thinking wrong.
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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.
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The depths of the sea are only water after all.
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Moments like this are buds on the tree of life. Flowers of darkness they are.
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It is a thousand pities never to say what one feels.
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I need not hate any man; he cannot hurt me. I need not flatter any man; he has nothing to give me.
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But nothing is so strange when one is in love (and what was this except being in love?) as the complete indifference of other people.
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