Vita Sackville-West

I want to be frank. I have implied, I think, that men didn’t attract me, that I didn’t think of them in what is called ‘that way’. Women did.

Mine be the secrets both of hearts and stars, (Small, measureless hearts; great, measurable stars;)

The mask you wore! I dwelt only upon your insignificant vanity, and in your pride you made no defense.

Why not? You have le feu sacré. Stagnation is death, death. Burn their temples with fire, and trample their altars to dust.

16 March 1941 Lushka mine, Yes, of course (idiot that you are) it upsets me to see you or hear your voice. I hate you for having this effect on me.

Don't you realise the difference you are making to my life?

Dear Mrs Woolf We sit on the steps of the tower discussing why some women get their physical satisfaction interiorally or exteriorally, and what connection there may or may not be between the inner part of the nerve and the outer—

Of such a tall and airy world are they, Women and woods, with shadowed aisles profound That none explore. —Birches, frail whispering company, are these? Or lovely women rooted into trees?

Eve had never been to England, nor could he see any place in England for her. She should continue to live as she had always lived, among the vines and the magnolias

October rusted into gold When you and I and love grew old.

I was dazzled by you, I admired you, I used to watch you and think about you, in a way I almost worshipped you, I don’t mind admitting it, but that is not the same as being in love.

Well, I took Violet as far as Orpington by train, and there we found a lodging house where we could get a room. The landlady was very benevolent and I said Violet was my wife.

‘Vagabond!’ he said. ‘Is life to be one long carnival?’ ‘And one long honesty.’

19 December 1948 Oh my sweet: you’ll never tempt me to Paris. Cities terrify me.

Doesn't everyone like to be loved?

That is where sex comes in, the arch-deceiver. Sex deludes one into the belief that one has attained real contact with another person; And since the horrible loneliness of the soul makes one crave for some contact, One turns gratefully to sex as a short-cut to contact.

Whatever else might be in her head, it was certain that neither love, nor romance, nor any of the emotions usually ascribed to the young, were in it. If she dreamed, it was of no young Adam.

Violet used to call me Julian. We dined together every evening in cafés and restaurants, and went to all the theatres. I shall never forget the evenings when we walked back slowly to our flat through the streets of Paris. I, personally, had never felt so free in my life.

Edith could have told them that all her life she had been trying to say what she meant, and had never yet succeeded.

Her fluttered spirit, delicate and soft, Bumping against the lamp of life, too hard, too glassy.

I’ll own you before the world—and court its disapproval.