Mrs Dalloway Quotes

“yet she could not resist sometimes yielding to the charm of a woman, not a girl, of a woman confessing, as to her they often did, some scrape, some folly. And whether it was pity, or their beauty, or that she was older, or some accident-like a faint scent, or a violin next door (so strange is the power of sounds at certain moments), she did undoubtedly then feel what men felt.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“As a cloud crosses the sun, silence falls on London; and falls on the mind. Effort ceases. Time flaps on the mast. There we stop; there we stand.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“She sighed, she snored, not that she was asleep, only drowsy and heavy, drowsy and heavy, like a field of clover in the sunshine this hot July day, with the bees going round and about and the yellow butterflies.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“It was this that made him attractive to women, who liked the sense that he was not altogether manly. There was something unusual about him, or something behind him. It might be that he was bookish -- never came to see you without taking up the book on the table (he was now reading, with his bootlaces trailing on the floor)...”
― Virginia Woolf

“She would not say of anyone that they were this or that.”
― Virginia Woolf

“Like the pulse of a perfect heart, life struck straight through the streets.”
― Virginia Woolf

“It was protective, on her side; sprang from a sense of being in league together, a presentiment of something that was bound to part them (they spoke of marriage always as a catastrophe), which led to this chivalry, this protective feeling which was much more on her side than Sally's.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“Dr. Holmes came again. Large, fresh coloured, handsome, flicking his boots, looking in the glass, he brushed it all aside-headaches, sleeplessness, fears, dreams-nerve symptoms and nothing more, he said.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“Up in the sky swallows, swooping, swerving, flinging themselves in and out, round and round, yet always with perfect control as if elastics held them; and the sun spotting now this leaf, now that, in mockery, dazzling it with soft gold in pure good temper; and now and again some chime (it might be a motor horn) tinkling divinely on the grass stalks - all of this, calm and reasonable as it was made out of ordinary things as it was, was the truth now; beauty, that was the truth now; beauty, that was the truth now. Beauty was everywhere.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs Dalloway

“and it was the moment between six and seven when every flower-roses, carnations, irises, lilac-glows; white, violet, red, deep orange; every flower seems to burn by itself, softly purely in the misty beds; and how she loved the grey-white moths spinning in and out, over the cherry pie, over the evening primroses!”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“This was a favourite dress, one of Sally Parker's, the last almost she ever made, alas, for Sally had now retired, living at Ealing, and if ever I have a moment, thought Clarissa (but never would she have a moment any more), I shall go and see her at Ealing.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“They never saw him drawing pictures of them naked at their antics in his notebook.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“...it is a thousand pities never to say what one feels”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“Well, how was she going to defend herself? Now that she knew what it was, she felt perfectly happy. They thought, or Peter at any rate thought, that she enjoyed imposing herself; liked to have famous people about her; great names; was simply a snob in short. Well, Peter might think so. Richard merely thought it foolish of her to like excitement when she knew it was bad for her heart. It was childish, he thought. And both were quite wrong. What she liked was simply life.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“Evans, Evans!" He Cried.
Mrs. Smith was talking aloud to himself, Agnes the servant girl cries to Mrs. Filmer in the kitchen. "Evans, Evans" he had said as she brought in the tray. She jumped, she did. She scuttled downstairs.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“Tinha a sensação estranhíssima de ser invisível, de não ser vista, ignorada.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“Mesmo assim, o sol era quente. Mesmo assim, a gente superava as coisas. Mesmo assim, a vida arranjava um jeito de somar um dia ao outro.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“Keşke Richard gibi her davranışında yalnızca o davranışın sonucunu amaçlayan insanlardan biri olsaydı, oysa kendisi (karşıya geçmek için bekledi) davranışlarının çoğunu karmaşık hale getirir, başka amaçlara sapardı; insanlar şunu bunu desinler diye; düpedüz ahmaklıktı bunu biliyordu (işte polis elini kaldırıyor), çünkü bir an bile aldanmıyordu kimse. Ah yeni baştan yaşayabilseydim hayatımı diye düşündü kaldırıma çıkarken, keşke görünüşüm bile başka olsaydı!”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“Ma che importava, allora, ella si domandava procedendo verso Bond Street, che importava che ella dovesse, ineluttabilmente e completamente, cessare di vivere? Tanto fervore di vita sarebbe continuato senza di lei; se ne risentiva forse? o non era piuttosto consolante la certezza che la morte poneva fine a tutto; ma che in un certo modo, nelle vie di Londra, nella gran marea delle cose, qui, là, ella sopravviveva, Peter sopravviveva, e vivevano uno nell'altro, e lei era parte -l'avrebbe giurato- degli alberi a Bourton; di quel brutto casamento laggiù, trasandato e tutto a pezzi e bocconi; parte di gente che non aveva mai visto al mondo; distesa come un velo di nebbia tra le creature che le erano più amiche, che si protendevano a sollevarla così come aveva visto gli alberi sollevare la bruma tra i rami; eppure si estendeva quanto mai lontano, quella vita che era poi lei”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“Sie fühlte sich sehr jung; gleichzeitig unaussprechlich betagt. Sie schnitt wie ein Messer durch alles; war gleichzeitig außerhalb und sah zu. Sie hatte eine nicht endende Empfindung, während sie die Droschken beobachtete, draußen zu sein, draußen, weit draußen auf See, und allein; sie hatte immer das Gefühl, es sei sehr, sehr gefährlich, auch nur einen Tag zu leben.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“Afinal, podiam estar separados durante séculos, ela e Peter, ela nunca escrevia uma carta e as dele eram muito secas; mas de súbito lhe ocorria: "Que diria Peter, se estivesse aqui comigo agora?" Alguns dias, certas cenas lho traziam de volta, suavemente, sem a antiga amargura; é talvez a recompensa de ter amado as criaturas; voltam em meio de St. James's Park por uma bela manhã - voltam mesmo. Mas Peter - por mais belo que fosse o dia, e as árvores, e a relva e aquela meninazinha cor-de-rosa, Peter nada veria disso tudo. Poria os óculos, se ela lho dissesse; e olharia. O que lhe interessava era a situação do mundo; Wagner, a poesia de Pope, os caracteres das pessoas, sempre e sempre, e os defeitos dela própria. Como a arreliava! Como discutiam! Ela ia casar-se com um primeiro-ministro e pararia no alto de uma escada; chamava-lhe a perfeita dona-de-casa (ela até havia chorado no quarto); era o tipo acabado da perfeita dona-de-casa, dissera ele.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“Horrível, pensava, adivinhar mover-se nela aquele monstro brutal! ouvir ramos estralejando e sentir aqueles cascos nas profundezas dessa floresta cheia de folhas, a alma; nunca estar inteiramente alegre, nem inteiramente segura, pois a qualquer momento o animal podia estar movendo-se; ódio que, especialmente depois da sua doença, fazia-lhe sentir um doloroso arrepio na espinha; causava-lhe uma dor física, todo o prazer da beleza, da amizade, do bem estar, de sentir-se amada, de tornar a casa deliciosamente acolhedora, tudo vacilava e pendia, como se na verdade houvesse um monstro a roer raízes, como se toda a panóplia do contentamento não fosse mais que amor-próprio! e aquele ódio!
Tolices, tolices! exclamava para si mesma, atravessando a porta giratória de Mulberry, o florista.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs Dalloway

“Ne félj, mondja a szív, terhét valamiféle tenger árjára bízza, mely együtt sóhajt, nyög valamennyi bánatért, megújul, újrakezd, összegyűjt, hullni hagy.”
― Virginia Woolf