“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 think.
To be silent; to be alone."
"All the being and the doing,
expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated;
and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity,
to being oneself,
a wedge-shaped core of darkness,
something invisible to others..."
"and this self
having shed its attachments
for the strangest adventures.”
Virginia Woolf: To the Lighthouse