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Virginia Woolf

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    "A married woman, unfortunately," he said; "the wife of a Major in the Indian Army."
    strangenewemberцитуєторік
    For she was a child, throwing bread to the ducks, between her parents, and at the same time a grown woman coming to her parents who stood by the lake, holding her life in her arms which, as she neared them, grew larger and larger in her arms, until it became a whole life, a complete life, which she put down by them and said, "This is what I have made of it! This!" And what had she made of it? What, indeed?
    strangenewemberцитуєторік
    her look, passing through all that time and that emotion, reached him doubtfully; settled on him tearfully; and rose and fluttered away, as a bird touches a branch and rises and flutters away.
    strangenewemberцитуєторік
    As a cloud crosses the sun, silence falls on London; and falls on the mind.
    strangenewemberцитуєторік
    Like the pulse of a perfect heart, life struck straight through the streets.
    strangenewemberцитуєторік
    Nothing exists outside us except a state of mind, he thinks; a desire for solace, for relief, for something outside these miserable pigmies, these feeble, these ugly, these craven men and women.
    strangenewemberцитуєторік
    But if he can conceive of her, then in some sort she exists, he thinks, and advancing down the path with his eyes upon sky and branches he rapidly endows them with womanhood; sees with amazement how grave they become; how majestically, as the breeze stirs them, they dispense with a dark flutter of the leaves charity, comprehension, absolution, and then, flinging themselves suddenly aloft, confound the piety of their aspect with a wild carouse.
    strangenewemberцитуєторік
    They had always this queer power of communicating without words.
    strangenewemberцитуєторік
    It all seemed useless—going on being in love; going on quarrelling; going on making it up, and he wandered off alone, among outhouses, stables, looking at the horses.
    strangenewemberцитуєторік
    She had some queer power of fiddling on one's nerves, turning one's nerves to fiddle-strings, yes.
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