On March 28, 1941, Virginia Woolf, in the depths of a deep depression, filled the pockets of her overcoat with stones, walked into the River Ouse near her home, and drowned. She was fifty-nine years old. In honor of her brilliant career, here’s a fragment of her outstanding novel, Mrs. Dalloway.

“Shredding and slicing, dividing and subdividing, the clocks of Harley Street nibbled at the June day, counselled submission, upheld authority and pointed out in chorus the supreme advantages of a sense of proportion, until the mount of time was so far diminished that a commercial clock, suspended above a shop in Oxford Street, announced genially and fraternally, as if it were a pleasure to Messrs. Rigby and Loundes to give the information gratis, that it was half-past one.”

2 Responses to “MRS. DALLOWAY”
  1. Dan Beeaff says:

    Quite a literary loss!

    Sent from my iPad



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  • Copyright © 2011-16, Dianne Ebertt Beeaff. All Rights Reserved.
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