Quotations from Virginia Woolf, often (but not always) linked to flowers, usually inspired by what is in bloom, and accompanied by my photos and artwork or that of friends. If a photo is not attributed, I took it. (Quotations are from the standard American editions: mostly the annotated Harcourt Brace series edited by Mark Hussey)
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Evening Primroses: May 10, 2015
Evening primroses among roses
Standing
at the window and looking out into the garden, the lives of all these books
filled the room behind with a soft murmur. Truly, a deep sea, the past, a tide
which will overtake and overflow us. Yes, the tennis players looked half
transparent already, as they came up the grass lawn to the house, the game
being over. The tall lady stooped and picked a pallid rose; and the balls which
the gentleman kept dancing up and down upon his racquet, as he walked beside
her, were dim little spheres against the deep green hedge. Then, as they passed
inside, the moths came out, the swift grey moths of the dusk, that only visit
flowers for a second, never settling, but hanging an inch or two above the
yellow of the evening primroses,
vibrating to a blur.
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