Virginia Woolf Quotes About Weed

We have collected for you the TOP of Virginia Woolf's best quotes about Weed! Here are collected all the quotes about Weed starting from the birthday of the Writer – January 25, 1882! We hope you will be inspired to new achievements with our constantly updated collection of quotes. At the moment, this page contains 5 sayings of Virginia Woolf about Weed. We will be happy if you share our collection of quotes with your friends on social networks!
  • For this is the truth about our soul, he thought, who fish-like inhabits deep seas and plies among obscurities threading her way between the boles of giant weeds, over sun-flickered spaces and on and on into gloom, cold, deep, inscrutable; suddenly she shoots to the surface and sports on the wind-wrinkled waves; that is, has a positive need to brush, scrape, kindle herself, gossiping.

    Virginia Woolf (1996). “Mrs Dalloway”, p.117, Wordsworth Editions
  • I am to be broken. I am to be derided all my life. I am to be cast up and down among these men and women, with their twitching faces, with their lying tongues, like a cork on a rough sea. Like a ribbon of weed I am flung far every time the door opens.

    Virginia Woolf (2005). “Selected Works of Virginia Woolf”, p.687, Wordsworth Editions
  • Yes, yes, I'm coming. Right up the top of the house. One moment I'll linger. How the mud goes round in the mind-what a swirl these monsters leave, the waters rocking, the weeds waving and green here, black there, striking to the sand, till by degrees the atoms reassemble, the deposit sifts itself, and a gain through the eyes one sees clear and still, and there comes to the lips some prayer for the departed, some obsequy for the souls of those one nods to, the one never meets again.

    Virginia Woolf (2014). “Monday or Tuesday: Eight Stories”, p.25, Simon and Schuster
  • I am obsessed at nights with the idea of my own worthlessness, and if it were only to turn a light on to save my life I think I would not do it. These are the last footprints of a headache I suppose. Do you ever feel that? - like an old weed in a stream. What do you feel, lying in bed?

    Virginia Woolf (1975). “The Letters of Virginia Woolf: 1929-1931”
  • Am I a weed, carried this way, that way, on a tide that comes twice a day without a meaning?

    Virginia Woolf (2015). “The Years”, p.294, Booklassic
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