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The voice had an extraordinary sadness. Pure from all body, pure from all passion, going out into the world, solitary, unanswered, breaking against ro...more

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Septimus has been working too hard" - that was all she could say to her own mother. To love makes one solitary, she thought.

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But we-' she glanced at him as if to ascertain his position, 'we see each other only now and then-''Like lights in a storm-''In the midst of a hurrica...more

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. . . clumsiness is often mated with a love of solitude.

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Talk of solitude (...). It is the last resort of the civilised: our souls are so creased and soured in meaning we can only unfold them when we are alo...more

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I begin to be impatient of solitude - to feel its draperies hang sweltering, unwholesome about me.

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But I pine in Solitude. Solitude is my undoing.

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But for pain words are lacking. There should be cries, cracks, fissures, whiteness passing over chintz covers, interference with the sense of time, of...more

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How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. ...more

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I want someone to sit beside after the day's pursuit and all its anguish, after its listening, and its waitings, and its suspicions. After quarrelling...more

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For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well not even to...more

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All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped cor...more

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...children never forget. For this reason, it was so important what one said, and what one did, and it was a relief when they went to bed. For now she...more

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Although she continued to knit, and sat upright, it was thus that she felt herself; and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strange...more