"Night had come—night that she loved of..." - Quote by Virginia Woolf

“Mrs Dalloway is always giving parties to cover the silence”

“For some time she observed a great yellow butterfly, which was opening and closing its wings very slowly on a little flat stone. "What is it to be in love?" she demanded, after a long silence; each word as it came into being seemed to shove itself out into an unknown sea. Hypnotized by the wings of the butterfly, and awed by the discovery of a terrible possibility in life, she sat for some time longer. When the butterfly flew away, she rose, and within, her two books beneath her arm returned again, much as a soldier prepares for battle.”

“I need not hate any man; he cannot hurt me. I need not flatter any man; he has nothing to give me.”

“On your eyelids crown the god of sleep,Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness,Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleepAs is the difference betwixt day and nightThe hour before the heavenly-harness'd teamBegins his golden progress in the east.”

“Is not the midnight like Central Africa to most of us? Are we not tempted to explore it,--to penetrate to the shores of its Lake Tchad, and discover the source of its Nile, perchance the Mountains of the Moon? Who knows what fertility and beauty, moral and natural, are to be found? In the Mountains of the Moon, in the Central Africa of the night, there is where all Niles have their hidden heads. The expeditions up the Nile as yet extend but to the Cataracts, or perchance to the mouth of the White Nile; but it is the black Nile that concerns us.”

“So dear night the half of life is, And the fairest half indeed.”

“I'm always writing new books so I don't dwell on the ones I've already done. I think that's a habit from being a newspaper guy because you're always writing columns and you can't reflect on the ones you've already done.”

“It is on great occasions only, and after time has been given for cool and deliberate reflection, that the real voice of the people can be known.”

“To Time it never seems that he is braveTo set himself against the peaks of snowTo lay them level with the running wave,Nor is he overjoyed when they lie low,But only grave, contemplative and grave.”