One has to secrete a jelly in which to slip quotations down people's throats - and one always secretes too much jelly.
From Virginia Woolf
I read the book of Job last night, I don't think God comes out well in it.
If you insist upon fighting to protect me, or 'our' country, let it be understood soberly and rationally between us that you are fighting to gratify a sex instinct which I cannot share; to procure benefits where I have not shared and probably will not share.
It is fatal to be a man or woman pure and simple: one must be a woman manly, or a man womanly.
Really I don't like human nature unless all candied over with art.
There can be no two opinions as to what a highbrow is. He is the man or woman of thoroughbred intelligence who rides his mind at a gallop across country in pursuit of an idea.
I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later, and thus we don't have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.
When the shriveled skin of the ordinary is stuffed out with meaning, it satisfies the senses amazingly.
My own brain is to me the most unaccountable of machinery - always buzzing, humming, soaring roaring diving, and then buried in mud. And why? What's this passion for?
Who shall measure the hat and violence of the poet's heart when caught and tangled in a woman's body?
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