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Damnit damnit damnit, I don't want to turn the last page!

Art and Religion are the reflections which we see in the dark hollow at the back of the head when the visible world is obscured for the time.

Hail! natural desire! Hail! happiness! and pleasure of all sorts, flowers and wine, though one fades and the other intoxicates; and singing in a dark chapel hymns about death...anything, anything that interrupts and confounds the tapping of typewriters and filing of letters and forging of links and chains, binding the Empire together.

For it has come about, by the wise economy of our nature, that our modern spirit can almost dispense with language; the commonest expressions do, since no expressions do; the most ordinary conversation is often the most poetic, and the msot poetic is precisely that which cannot be written down. For which reasons we leave a great blank here, which must be taken to indicate that the space is filled to repletion. <}!

The present participle is the Devil himself, she thought.

"He stood upright in complete nakedness before us, and while the trumpets pealed Truth! Truth! Truth! we have no choice left but to confess-he was a woman."

Oh my god, that Memory passage. I'll move on when I can stop reading it over and over again. I may need to rip it out and tattoo it to my hand so I can reread whenever I want.

By far the most accessible Woolf I've read yet. If I'm reading sentences twice, it's because I want to very much. Then again, I sort of feel like I've cheated and know the secret code this time.