“And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full of treesand changing leaves.”

“There's just this….an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined.”

“We insist, it seems, on living.”

“She felt as if things were moving past her as she lay stretched on the bed under the single sheet. But it’s not landscape any longer, she thought; it’s people’s lives, their changing lives.”

“Are we so made that we have to take death in small doses daily or we could not go on with the business of living?”

“Leonard Woolf: If I didn't know you better I'd call this ingratitude. Virginia Woolf: I am ungrateful? You call ME ungrateful? My life has been stolen from me. I'm living in a town I have no wish to live in... I'm living a life I have no wish to live... How did this happen?”

“So I have to create the whole thing afresh for myself each time. Probably all writers now are in the same boat. It is the penalty we pay for breaking with tradition, and the solitude makes the writing more exciting though the being read less so. One ought to sink to the bottom of the sea, probably, and live alone with ones words.”