The 82+ Vita Sackville-West Quotes

A Letter, By Its Arrival, Defrauds Us Of A Whole Secret Region Of Our Existence, The Only Region Indeed In Which The True Pleasure Of Life May Be Tasted, The Region Of Imagination, Creative And Protean, The Clouds And Beautiful Shapes Of Whose Heaven Are Destroyed By The Wind Of Reality.

There's No Beginning To The Farmer's Year, / Only Recurrent Patterns On A Scroll / Unwinding...

Travel Is A Private Pleasure, Since It Consists Entirely Of Things Felt And Things Seen.

One Must Be Businesslike, Although The Glass Is Falling.

That Pathetic Short-cut Suggested By Nature The Supreme Joker As A Remedy For Our Loneliness, That Ephemeral Communion Which We Persuade Ourselves To Be Of The Spirit When It Is In Fact Only Of The Body - Durable Not Even In Memory!

Growth Is Exciting; Growth Is Dynamic And Alarming.

Click, Clack, Click, Clack, Went Their Conversation, Like So Many Knitting-needles, Purl, Plain, Purl, Plain, Achieving A Complex Pattern Of References, Cross-references, Christian Names, Nicknames, And Fleeting Allusions.

For Bees Are Captious Folk / And Quick To Turn Against The Lubber's Touch.

I Suppose The Pleasure Of The Country Life Lies Really In The Eternally Renewed Evidences Of The Determination To Live. That Is A Truism When Said, But Anything But A Truism When Daily Observed. Nothing Shows Up The Difference Between The Thing Said Or Read, So Much As The Daily Experience Of It.

How Poor And Disheartening A Thing Is Experience Compared With Hope!

It Is Necessary To Write, If The Days Are Not To Slip Emptily By. How Else, Indeed, To Clap The Net Over The Butterfly Of The Moment?

All The Small Squalors Of The Body, Known Only To Oneself, Insignificant In Youth, Easily Dismissed, In Old Age Became Dominant And Entered Into Fulfilment Of The Tyranny They Had Always Threatened.