Quick: help
Oct. 23rd, 2003 08:37 amCan anyone tell me that quote from Virginia Woolf about how it's a miracle that any art gets made, what with chores and family and friends and sleep etc.? I'm paraphrasing here, and I don't remember enough of the words to google it.
Help!
Help!
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Date: 2003-10-23 05:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-23 05:59 am (UTC)room of her own
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Date: 2003-10-23 07:27 am (UTC)I did a search on Bartleby.com and that's the closest match ...
'A Room of Ones Own'
Date: 2003-10-23 02:59 pm (UTC)And one gathers from this enormous modern literature of confession and self-analysis that to write a work of genius is almost always a feat of prodigious difficulty. Everything is against the likelihood that it will come from the writer's mind whole and entire. Generally material circumstances are against it. Dogs will bark; people will interrupt; money must be made; health will break down. Further, accentuating all these difficulties and making them harder to bear is the worlds notorious indifference. It does not ask people to write poems and novels and histories; it does not need them. It does not care whether Flaubert finds the right word or whether Carlyle scrupulously verifies this or that fact. Naturally, it will not pay for what it does not want. And so the writer, Keats, Flaubert, Carlyle, suffers, especially in creative years of youth, every form of distraction and discouragement. A curse, a cry of agony, rises from those books of analysis and confession. "Might poets in their misery dead"-that is the burden of their song. If anything comes through in spite of all this, it is a miracle, and probably no book is born entire and uncrippled as it was conceived.
The next paragraph discusses the particular problems experienced by women in creating. Hope this helps.
Re: 'A Room of Ones Own'
Date: 2003-10-23 08:14 pm (UTC)Re: 'A Room of Ones Own'
Date: 2003-10-23 09:33 pm (UTC)Another Woolf quote
Date: 2003-10-23 03:19 pm (UTC)When the day of judgement dawns and the great conquerors and lawyers and statesmen come to receive their rewards-their crowns, their laurels, their names carved indelibly upon imperishable marble-the Almighty will turn to Peter and will say, not without a certain envy when he sees us coming with our books under our arms, “Look, these need no reward. We have nothing to give them here. They have loved reading.”