thought Clarissa Dalloway, what a morning—fresh as if issued to children on a beach.

“Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose," she read, and so reading she was as…”

“I like it when people actually come, but I love it when they go.”

“But when the self speaks to the self, who is speaking?—the entombed soul, the s…”

“Unpraised, I find it hard to start writing in the morning; but the dejection la…”