Ursula’s grudge (from D.H.Lawrence)

one was a tiny little rock she despised and detested people, loved only children and animals children she loved passionately but coldly had a profound grudge against the human being contemptuous ridicule night had fallen, it was dark but she forgot to be afraid among the trees a magic peace a pure loneliness it was(…)


Pocket handkerchiefs (V.Woolf)

here we are like herrings going out into the world solitary, unanswered, breaking against rocks one may learn to paint at fifty heads on pocket handkerchiefs one wants to write poetry, and to love here, against a wall, a woman stares at nothing home they went fatigue … the safest sleeping draft with deserted beautiful(…)