Virginia Woolf Quotes

So of course time is necessary. But nevertheless damn painful, for it transforms all the pieces of your life - joy and sorrow, youth and age, love and hate, terror and bliss - from fire into smoke rising up the air and dissipating on a breeze.

My lungs taste the air of Time,Blown past falling sands.

It may all end tomorrow, or it could go on forever (in which case I'm doomed).

When you see around you the human form suffering or dissolving, you have empathy on the human level. You share the suffering because it has to do with the fleetingness of form. But if that is the only level that operates in you, you haven't gone beyond suffering.

Everything that comes together falls apart. Everything. The chair I’m sitting on. It was built, and so it will fall apart. I’m gonna fall apart, probably before this chair. And you’re gonna fall apart. The cells and organs and systems that make you you—they came together, grew together, and so must fall apart. The Buddha knew one thing science didn’t prove for millennia after his death: Entropy increases. Things fall apart.

One never took the time to savour the details; one said: another day, but always with the hidden knowledge that each day was unique and fatal, that there never would be a return, another time.

The future will soon be a thing of the past.

I only know that it was, and ceased to be; and that I have written, and there I leave it.

We are dust and to dust return. In the end we're neither air, nor fire, nor water, just dirt, neither more nor less, just dirt, and maybe some yellow flowers.

Night falls fast. Today is in the past.

Life is once. Forever.

A little time, and thou shalt close thy eyes; and him who has attended thee to thy grave, another soon will lament.

Everything that has a beginning has an ending. Make your peace with that and all will be well.

Someday you will die, and until you know that, you're useless to me.

The frailty of everything revealed at last. Old and troubling issues resolved into nothingness and night. The last instance of a thing takes the class with it. Turns out the light and is gone. Look around you. Ever is a long time. But the boy knew what he knew. That ever is no time at all.

Nothing can happen more than once, but everything must happen one day; Over hill and dale, wood and stream, my dying voice will blow away. . .

Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and-sans End!

Our worlds are so momentary. We are along all our lives and then go off that way as well.

All fires burn out at last.