22 August 2010

/ old loves, virginia woolf

'the word 'time' split its husk; poured its riches over him; and from his lips fell like shells, like shavings from a plane, without his making them, hard, white, imperishable words, and flew to attach themselves to their places in an ode to Time; an immortal ode to Time.'
/an excerpt from mrs. dalloway by woolf