What did Virginia Woolf mean by: There is the strange power we have of changing facts by the force of the imagination. - Virginia Woolf Writer · England Copy
+ The very stone one kicks with one’s boot will outlast Shakespeare. Feraz Zeid, December 25, 2023January 10, 2024, Virginia Woolf, Boots, Stones, 0 - Virginia Woolf Writer · England
+ With twice his wits, she had to see things through his eyes — one of the tragedies of married life. Feraz Zeid, December 25, 2023January 10, 2024, Virginia Woolf, Eye, Marriage, Tragedy, 0 - Virginia Woolf Writer · England
+ It is probable that both in life and in art the values of a woman are not the values of a man. Feraz Zeid, December 25, 2023January 10, 2024, Virginia Woolf, Art, Women, 0 - Virginia Woolf Writer · England
+ I feel all shadows of the universe multiplied deep inside my skin. Feraz Zeid, December 25, 2023January 10, 2024, Virginia Woolf, Shadow, Skins, 0 - Virginia Woolf Writer · England
+ It doesn’t have to be the truth, just your vision of it, written down. Feraz Zeid, December 25, 2023January 10, 2024, Virginia Woolf, Vision, 0 - Virginia Woolf Writer · England
+ Moments like this are buds on the tree of life. Flowers of darkness they are. Feraz Zeid, December 25, 2023January 10, 2024, Virginia Woolf, Darkness, Flower, 0 - Virginia Woolf Writer · England
+ Happiness is to have a little string onto which things will attach themselves. Feraz Zeid, December 25, 2023January 10, 2024, Virginia Woolf, Happiness, Strings, 0 - Virginia Woolf Writer · England
+ But the close withdrew: the hand softened. It was over– the moment. Feraz Zeid, December 25, 2023January 10, 2024, Virginia Woolf, Hands, Moments, 0 - Virginia Woolf Writer · England
What is history after all? History is facts which become lies in the end. - Jean Cocteau Artist · France
A heap of epithets is poor praise: the praise lies in the facts, and in the way of telling them. Explain - Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
Philosophy and Art both render the invisible visible by imagination. - George Henry Lewes Philosopher and literary critic · England
Taste is nothing but an enlarged capacity for receiving pleasure from works of imagination. - William Hazlitt Essayist · England
It is strange how sad it can be – sunlight in the afternoon, don’t you think? - Jean Rhys Writer · Dominica
Le biologiste passe, la grenouille reste. The biologist passes, the frog remains. - Jean Rostand Biologist · France
