I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later, and thus we don't have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.
Alone, condemned, deserted, as those who are about to die are alone, there was a luxury in it, an isolation full of sublimity; a freedom which the attached can never know
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote reflects on the paradox of isolation, suggesting that solitude can offer a unique freedom and profound experience that those who are attached cannot understand.
Virginia Woolf's quote delves into the complexities of solitude, especially in moments of despair or nearing death. She implies that while being alone can be seen as a curse, it can also bring a certain luxury and depth to one's thoughts and experiences. This isolation allows for introspection and a type of freedom that individuals who are emotionally or physically attached to others may never fully appreciate. Woolf juxtaposes the feelings of abandonment with the potential for sublime insights that can come from such solitude.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
This quote can be shared during a discussion on the benefits of solitude for personal growth.
More from Virginia Woolf
All quotes →Death is woven in with the violets,” said Louis. “Death and again death.”)
He began to search among the infinite series of impressions which time had laid down, leaf upon leaf, fold upon fold softly, incessantly upon his brain; among scents, sounds; voices, harsh, hollow, sweet; and lights passing, and brooms tapping; and the wash and hush of the sea.
I want to think quietly, calmly, spaciously, never to be interrupted, never to have to rise from my chair, to slip easily from one thing to another, without any sense of hostility, or obstacle. I want to sink deeper and deeper, away from the surface, with its hard separate facts.
I do think all good and evil comes from words. I have to tune myself into a good temper with something musical, and I run to a book as a child to its mother.
London perpetually attracts, stimulates, gives me a play and a story and a poem, without any trouble, save that of moving my legs through the streets... To walk alone through London is the greatest rest.
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All their life in this world and all their adventures had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.
Rarely do great beauty and great virtue dwell together.
Morality is not properly the doctrine of how we may make ourselves happy, but how we may make ourselves worthy of happiness.