Between the Acts Quotes

“Books are the mirrors of the soul.”
― Virginia Woolf, Between the Acts

“Often on a wet day I begin counting up; what I've read and what I haven't read.”
― Virginia Woolf, Between the Acts

“Noi jucăm roluri diferite; dar suntem aceeaşi.”
― Virginia Woolf, Between the Acts

“Empty, empty, empty; silent, silent, silent. The room was a shell, singing of what was before time was; a vase stood in the heart of the house, alabaster, smooth, cold, holding the still, distilled essence of emptiness, silence.”
― Virginia Woolf, Between the Acts

“Love. Hate. Peace. Three emotion made the ply of human life.”
― Virginia Woolf, Between the Acts

“Cum de inima mea poate - cum mai poate, cum mai poate, repetă, pufăind din havană. Tânjind în singurătate, chinul vieții să-l îndure?”
― Virginia Woolf, Between the Acts

“Why, if one wants to compare life to anything, one must liken it to being blown through the Tube at fifty miles an hour - landing at the other end without a single hairpin in one's hair!”
― Virginia Woolf, Between the Acts

“Suppose the looking glass smashes, the image disappears, and the romantic figure with the green of forest depths all about it is there no longer, but only that shell of a person which is seen by other people - what an airless, shallow, bald, prominent world it becomes! A world not to be lived in. As we face each other in omnibuses and underground railways we are looking into the mirror that accounts for the vagueness, the gleam of glassiness, in our eyes.”
― Virginia Woolf, Between the Acts

“She tapped on the window with her embossed hairbrush. They were too far off to hear. The drone of the trees was in their ears; the chirp of birds; other incidents of garden life, inaudible, invisible to her in the bedroom, absorbed them. Isolated on a green island, hedged about with snowdrops, laid with a counterpane of puckered silk, the innocent island floated under her window. Only George lagged behind.”
― Virginia Woolf, Between the Acts

“So she sat down to morning tea, like any other old lady with a high nose, thin cheeks, a ring on her finger and the usual trappings of rather shabby but gallant old age...”
― Virginia Woolf, Between the Acts