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View Plans“ ”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.
About Vita Sackville-West
Victoria Mary Sackville-West, The Hon Lady Nicolson, CH (9 March 1892 – 2 June 1962), most famous as Vita Sackville-West, was an English poet, novelist and writer on gardening. She is sometimes considered part of the Bloomsbury group, and well known as the inspiration for Virginia Woolf's novel Orlando: A Biography.
Biography information from Wikiquote
Additional quotes by Vita Sackville-West
I simply adore Virginia Woolf, and so would you. You would fall quite flat before her charm and personality.
[...] Mrs. Woolf is so simple: she does give the impression of something big. She is utterly unaffected: there is no outward adornments — she dresses quite atrociously. At first you think she is plain; then a sort of spiritual beauty imposes itself on you, and you find a fascination in watching her. She was smarter last night; that is to say, the woolen orange stockings were replaced by yellow silk ones, but she still wore the pumps. She is both detached and human, silent till she wants to say something, and then says it supremely well. She is quite old. I've rarely taken such a fancy to anyone, and I think she likes me. At least, she's asked me to Richmond where she lives. Darling, I have quite lost my heart.
I find life altogether intoxicating, – its pain no less than its pleasure, – in which Virginia plays no mean part.
Please, in all this muddle of life, continue to be a bright and constant star. Just a few things remain as beacons: poetry, and you, and solitude.