My own brain is to me the most unaccountable of machinery always buzzing humming soaring roaring diving and then buried in mud. And why Whats this passion for
Virginia Woolf
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Like and like and likebut what is the thing that lies beneath the semblance of the thing
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I spent an hour looking at pots and carpets in the museums the other day until the desire to describe them became like the desire for the lusts of the flesh.
- Virginia Woolf -