A Sense of Solemnity

“For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of―to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone.

All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others... and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures.”

―Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

~