Vita Sackville-West Quotes

She wondered which wounds went deeper: the jagged wounds of reality, or the profound invisible bruises of the imagination?

Women, like men, ought to have their years so glutted with freedom that they hate the very idea of freedom.

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 her lovers have passed, her beautiful lovers have passed, The young and eager men that fought for her arrogant hand, And the only voice which endures to mourn for her at the last Is the voice of the lonely land.

I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your un-dumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it would lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is just really a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this — But oh my dear, I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And I don’t really resent it.

I worshipped dead men for their strength, forgetting I was strong.

You have my full permission.

Why do we, every one of us, refute the experience of others, preferring to gain our own? Why do we fight against government? Why do I want to be independent of my father? or the Islands independent of Herakleion? or Herakleion, independent of Greece? What’s this instinct of wanting to stand alone, to be oneself, isolated, free, individual? Why does instinct push us towards individualism, when the great well-being of mankind probably lies in solidarity? when the social system in its most elementary form starts with men clubbing together for comfort and greater safety? No sooner have we achieved our solidarity, our hierarchy, our social system, our civilisation, than we want to get away from it. A vicious circle; the wheel revolves, and brings us back to the same point from which we started.

If one wanted beauty, one had only to rest one's eyes on her, so fine and old and lovely, like an ivory carving; flowing down like water into her chair, so slight and supple were her limbs, the firelight casting a flush of rose over her features and snowy hair. Youth had no beauty like the beauty of an old face; the face of youth was an unwritten page. Youth could never sit as still as that, in absolute repose, as though all haste, all movement, were over and done with, and nothing left but waiting and acquiescence.

Usted me ha deslumbrado, le he admirado, le he contemplado y he pensado en usted, en cierto modo le he venerado casi, no me importa reconocerlo, pero eso no es lo mismo que estar enamorada.

Aparentemente no tenía opiniones: no tenía más que estados de ánimo a cuya intensidad arrolladora solo igualaba la velocidad con la que sucedían. No se acostumbraba a su impermanencia; cualquiera que fuera su condición mental del momento, al instante creía ver en ella una visión asentada de la vida. Súbitamente alarmado cuando ese estado le abandonaba, enseguida pasaba a otro, con olvidadizo optimismo.

With me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal.

Darling, I thought of nothing mean; I thought of killing straight and clean. You're safe; that's gone, that wild caprice, But tell me once before I cease, Which does your Church esteem the kinder role, To kill the body or destroy the soul?

And so it ends, We who were lovers may be friends. I have some weeks in which to steel My heart and teach myself to feel Only a sober tenderness Where once was passion's loveliness.

It is quite true that you have had infinitely more influence on me intellectually than anyone, and for this alone I love you.