by Dish Staff
“What is meant by ‘reality’? It would seem to be something very erratic, very undependable… It lights up a group in a room and stamps some casual saying. It overwhelms one walking home beneath the stars and makes the silent world more real than the world of speech—and then there it is again in an omnibus in the uproar of Piccadilly…. whatever it touches, it fixes and makes permanent.
That is what remains over when the skin of the day has been cast into the hedge; that is what is left of past time and of our loves and hates. Now the writer, as I think, has the chance to live more than other people in the presence of this reality. It is his business to find it and collect it and communicate it to the rest of us,” – Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own.
(Hat tip: Sage Mehta)
The Dish 