Virginia Woolf Quotes

It is with a kind of fear that I begin to write the history of my life.

I have never been clever enough - or egotistical enough to spend 300 pages dipping into the sludge of my own subconscious.

It seems to me that the problem with diaries, and the reason that most of them are so boring, is that every day we vacillate between examining our hangnails and speculating on cosmic order.

I hid myself within myself ... and quietly wrote down all my joys, sorrows and contempt in my diary.

I'm an introspective dude.

What's on your mind, if you will allow the overstatement.

I'm hopeless at looking into myself and trying to see how things are working and why.

I don't analyse myself.

I think I was kind of melancholy as a kid. I spent a lot of time inside my own head, a lot of time sort of staring into space wondering the hell was going on.

I don't like talking about myself; I'm not good at analysing myself. I don't want to analyse myself.

I'm a very introspective individual.

Writing on 'Love' is so steeped in self-analysis. The writer's room can feel like therapy.

I like to write things to be personal, so I just put what I'm thinking about at the time.

I wasn't quite used to writing a diary - I didn't understand why people did it - but I wrote down notes and they went into a poem.

I'm also not very analytical. You know I don't spend a lot of time thinking about myself, about why I do things.

Oh look at how she listens She says nothing of what she thinks She just goes stumbling through her memories Staring out on to Grey Street

A person loves to review his own mind. That is the use of a diary, or journal.

Write what's up there." Sister Ignatius pointed at her temple. "As a great man once said, this is a secret garden. We've all got one of those." "Jesus?" "No, Bruce Springsteen.

But you can't get away from yourself. You can't decide not to see yourself anymore. You can't decide to turn off the noise in your head.

when I first began this diary I said I would give a record of my inner life. I begin to wonder if I have said anything about my inner life. What if I have no inner life?

Sometimes I have that kind of critical mind to myself as well. This is because there are times where I have to do things that I don't wish to.

There is a sort of man who pays no attention to his good actions, but is tormented by his bad ones. This is the type that most often writes about himself.

She should think about her own soul, what she was going to do with this funky tattered pond dank item. Dark and stained, a ruined thing.

Reflection must be reserved for solitary hours; whenever she was alone, she gave way to it as the greatest relief; and not a day went by without a solitary walk, in which she might indulge in all the delight of unpleasant recollections.

I haven't written for a few days, because I wanted first of all to think about my diary. It's an odd idea for someone like me to keep a diary; not only because I have never done so before, but because it seems to me that neither I-nor for that matter anyone else-will be interested in the unbosomings of a thirteen -year -old schoolgirl. Still, what does that matter? I want to write, but more than that, I want to bring out all kinds of things that lie buried deep in my heart.