Wharton or Woolf
Wharton or Woolf
To celebrate the almost joint birthdays of two of the greatest women writers from both sides of the pond, this quiz has quotes from either Edith Wharton (24th January 1862) or Virginia Woolf (25th January 1882) you just have to guess which brilliant woman said which.
To celebrate the almost joint birthdays of two of the greatest women writers from both sides of the pond, this quiz has quotes from either Edith Wharton (24th January 1862) or Virginia Woolf (25th January 1882) you just have to guess which brilliant woman said which.
There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that receives it.
Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.
You cannot find peace by avoiding life.
Set wide the window. Let me drink the day.
Life is always either a tightrope or a feather bed. Give me the tightrope.
Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends can only read the title.
If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people.
There are lots of ways of being miserable, but there’s only one way of being comfortable, and that is to stop running round after happiness.
The real loneliness is living among all these kind people who only ask one to pretend!
She had no tolerance for scenes which were not of her own making.
When you consider things like the stars, our affairs don't seem to matter very much, do they?
Silence may be as variously shaded as speech.
The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.
As long as she thinks of a man, nobody objects to a woman thinking.
No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself.
It was easy enough to despise the world, but decidedly difficult to find any other habitable region.
I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.
His whole future seemed suddenly to be unrolled before him; and passing down its endless emptiness he saw the dwindling figure of a man to whom nothing was ever to happen.
To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face, and to know it for what it is...at last, to love it for what it is, and then, to put it away...
A classic is classic not because it conforms to certain structural rules, or fits certain definitions…It is classic because of a certain eternal and irrepressible freshness.