Virginia Woolf

Virginia Woolf

Adeline Virginia Woolf (/ˈwʊlf/; 25 January 1882 – 28 March 1941) was an English writer, regarded as one of the foremost modernist literary figures of the twentieth century.

During the interwar period, Woolf was a significant figure in London literary society and a member of the Bloomsbury Group. Her most famous works include the novels Mrs Dalloway (1925), To the Lighthouse (1927) and Orlando (1928), and the book-length essay A Room of One's Own (1929), with its famous dictum, "A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction."

Read more about Virginia Woolf:  Early Life, Bloomsbury, Work, Death, Modern Scholarship and Interpretations, Depictions

Famous quotes by virginia woolf:

    For what Harley Street specialist has time to understand the body, let alone the mind or both in combination, when he is a slave to thirteen thousand a year?
    Virginia Woolf (1882–1941)

    The beauty of the world ... has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder.
    Virginia Woolf (1882–1941)

    There is much to support the view that it is clothes that wear us, and not we, them; we may make them take the mould of arm or breast, but they mould our hearts, our brains, our tongues to their liking.
    Virginia Woolf (1882–1941)

    I’m glad to find that you dislike Venice because I thought it detestable when we were there, both times—once it might be due to insanity but not twice, so I thought it must be my fault. I suppose the obscurer reaches might be beautiful.
    Virginia Woolf (1882–1941)

    So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say. But to sacrifice a hair of the head of your vision, a shade of its colour, in deference to some Headmaster with a silver pot in his hand or to some professor with a measuring-rod up his sleeve, is the most abject treachery, and the sacrifice or wealth and chastity, which used to be said to be the greatest of human disasters, a mere flea-bite in comparison.
    Virginia Woolf (1882–1941)