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For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others, and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures.
— To the Lighthouse
 (book)
by Virginia Woolf
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| Language: | English |
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| 1 | keegant | 155 WPM | 99.0% | 212 | 1/2 | Jan. 29, 2024 |
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