izzie.

“Atraídos por uma irresistível corrente, chegam das tempestades e calmarias do mar, do seu silêncio e solidão, para o ponto de ancoragem que lhes é atribuído. Os motores param; as velas são recolhidas; e, de súbito, as ostentosas chaminés e os altos mastros exibem-se desajeitadamente contra uma fileira de casas de operários, contra as paredes negras de enormes armazéns. Uma curiosa mudança então ocorre. Os navios não têm mais a perspectiva adequada de mar e céu por trás deles, assim como já não dispõem do espaço apropriado para esticar os membros. Jazem ali cativos, amarrados em terra firme como criaturas aladas atadas pela perna ao pairarem nas alturas.”
― Virginia Woolf, The London Scene: Six Essays on London Life

“Life, how I have dreaded you," said Rhoda, "oh, human beings, how I have hated you! How you have nudged, how you have interrupted, how hideous you have looked in Oxford Street, how squalid sitting opposite each other staring in the Tube! Now as I climb this mountain, from the top of which I shall see Africa, my mind is printed with brown-paper parcels and your faces. I have been stained by you and corrupted. You smelt so unpleasant, too, lining up outside doors to buy tickets. All were dressed in indeterminate shades of grey and brown, never even a blue feather pinned to a hat. None had the courage to be one thing rather than another. What dissolution of the soul you demanded in order to get through one day, what lies, bowings, scrapings, fluency and servility! How you changed me to one spot, one hour, one chair, and sat yourselves down opposite! How you snatched from me the white spaces that lie between hour and hour and rolled them into dirty pellets and tossed them into wastepaper baskets with your greasy paws. Yet those were my life.”
― Virginia Woolf, The Waves

“Essa rua espalhafatosa, alvoroçada e vulgar lembra-nos que a vida é uma luta; que toda construção é perecível; que toda exibição é vaidade.”
― Virginia Woolf, The London Scene: Six Essays on London Life

“I ask, if I shall never see you again and fix my eyes on that solidity, what form will our communication take? You have gone across the court, further and further, drawing finer and finer the thread between us. But you exist somewhere. Something of you remains.”
― Virginia Woolf, The Waves