Posts Tagged Virginia Woolf
The beauty of the world has two edges, one of laughter,
one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder.
Art is so much more real than life. Some art is much more real than some life, I mean.
All art deals with the absurd and aims at the simple.
Art does the same things dreams do. We have a hunger for dreams and art fulfills that hunger. So much of real life is a disappointment. That’s’ why we have art.
–Joyce Carol Oates
Real art has the capacity to make us nervous.
I try to teach my heart not to want things it can’t have.
I didn’t fear failure. I expected failure.
Women are at last becoming persons first and wives second, and that is as it should be.
Mary McCarthy [1912-1989]
–grew up as an orphan in Minnesota
–graduated from Vassar College in 1933
–worked as drama and literary critic
–married to Edmund Wilson, literary critic, from 1938-1946 [like many women’s college graduates/feminists she kept her own name]
–married four times
Virginia Woolf [1882–1941]
–born in London
–daughter of model Julia Prinsep Stephen and editor, critic and biographer Sir Leslie Stephen
–home schooled by her father
–when Virginia was 13, her mother died which led to Virginia’s nervous breakdowns
–her father died in 1904 and Virginia was institutionalized briefly
— in 1912 she married writer Leonard Woolf
The Voyage Out 
Night and Day 
Jacob’s Room 
Mrs. Dalloway 
To the Lighthouse 
The Waves 
The Years 
Between the Acts 
–Virginia Woolf drowned herself March 28, 1941
my two favorite books by Virgina Woolf:
Women have served all these centuries as looking-glasses possessing the magic and delicious power of reflecting the figure of a man at twice its natural size.
from A Room of One’s Own (1929)