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Woolf, Virginia, 1882-1941

"The Voyage Out"

. . . The northern countries of Europe scarcely deserved the
expense and labour of conquest. The forests and morasses of Germany were
filled with a hardy race of barbarians, who despised life when it was
separated from freedom.

Never had any words been so vivid and so beautiful--Arabia
Felix--Aethiopia. But those were not more noble than the others, hardy
barbarians, forests, and morasses. They seemed to drive roads back to
the very beginning of the world, on either side of which the populations
of all times and countries stood in avenues, and by passing down them
all knowledge would be hers, and the book of the world turned back to
the very first page. Such was her excitement at the possibilities of
knowledge now opening before her that she ceased to read, and a breeze
turning the page, the covers of Gibbon gently ruffled and closed
together. She then rose again and walked on. Slowly her mind became less
confused and sought the origins of her exaltation, which were twofold
and could be limited by an effort to the persons of Mr. Hirst and Mr.
Hewet. Any clear analysis of them was impossible owing to the haze of
wonder in which they were enveloped. She could not reason about them as
about people whose feelings went by the same rule as her own did, and
her mind dwelt on them with a kind of physical pleasure such as is
caused by the contemplation of bright things hanging in the sun.


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