The flower bloomed and faded. The sun rose and sank. The lov... - Virginia Woolf, Orlando

"Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice answering a voice?"

"Green in nature is one thing, green in literature another. Nature and letters seem to have a natural antipathy; bring them together and they tear each other to pieces."

"For once the disease of reading has laid upon the system it weakens so that it falls an easy prey to that other scourge which dwells in the ink pot and festers in the quill. The wretch takes to writing."

"For while directly we say that it [the length of human life] is ages long, we are reminded that it is briefer than the fall of a rose leaf to the ground."

"Love, the poet said, is woman's whole existence."