"What is meant by “reality”? It would seem to be something very erratic, very undependable—now to be..."

“What is meant by “reality”? It would seem to be something very erratic, very undependable—now to be found in a dusty road, now in a scrap of newspaper in the street, now a daffodil in the sun.”

- Virginia Woolf, A Room Of One’s Own (via br-o-ken-poetry)