Status Updates From The Waves: Virginia Woolf (...

The truth is that I am not one of those who find their satisfaction in one person, or in infinity. The private room bores me, also the sky. My being only glitters when all its facets are exposed to many people. Let them fail and I am full of holes, dwindling like burnt paper.

memory is a mud-stained poem. “This is poetry if we do not write it” (as we do not); “the poet who has written this page (what I read with people talking) has withdrawn. There are no commas or semi-colons. The lines do not run in convenient lengths. Much is sheer nonsense. (Neville, 142)