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Christine98 Profile
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To The Lighthouse


Always (it was in her nature, her sex, she did not know which) before she exchanged the fluidity of life for the concentration of painting she had a few moments of nakedness when she seemed like an unborn soul, a soul reft of body, hesitating on some windy pinnacle and exposed without protection to all the blasts of doubt. Why then did she do it? She looked at the canvas lightly scored with running lines. It should be hung in the servants' bedrooms. It would be rolled up and stuffed under a sofa. What was the good of doing it then, and she heard some voice saying she couldn't paint, saying she couldn't create, as if she were caught up in one of those habitual currents in which after a certain time experience forms in the mind, so that one repeats words without being aware any longer who originally spoke them.
  
Can't paint, can't write, she murmured monotonously, anxiously considering what her plan of attack should be.


Virginia Woolf
Sep/1/2011, 8:12 am Link to this post Send Email to Christine98   Send PM to Christine98
 
Terreson Profile
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Re: To The Lighthouse


Good one, Chris. There is a reason why Albee named his play the way he did. She could be relentless and unblinking.

Tere
Sep/1/2011, 3:09 pm Link to this post Send Email to Terreson   Send PM to Terreson
 
Christine98 Profile
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Re: To The Lighthouse


Glad you liked it, Tere. I don't know of anyone who writes like her. It seems like she requires such sustained and heightened receptivity, reading her is a clarifying experience.

Chris
Sep/1/2011, 6:54 pm Link to this post Send Email to Christine98   Send PM to Christine98
 


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