Viewed: 33 - Published at: 8 years ago

It was odd, she thought, how if one was alone, one leant to inanimate things; trees, streams, flowers; felt they expressed one; felt they became one; felt they knew one, in a sense were one; felt an irrational tenderness thus {she looked at that long steady light} as for oneself.

( Virginia Woolf )
[ To the Lighthouse ]
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