Documente Academic
Documente Profesional
Documente Cultură
OF VIRGINIA WOOLF
by
KELLI EGAN NELSON, B.S. in Ed.
A THESIS
IN
ENGLISH
Submitted to the Graduate Faculty
of Texas Technological College
in Partial Fulfillment of
the Requirements for
the Degree of
MASTER OF ARTS
Approved
Accepted
August, 1969
PREFACE
11
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
PREFACE
I.
II.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
. .
ii
10
JACOB'S ROOM
15
22
THE YEARS
30
CONCLUSION
40
NOTES
in
BIBLIOGRAPHY
^5
111
CHAPTER I
The traditional method of handling time sequence in literature was followed by centuries of writers before Virginia Woolf and
other time-conscious modem authors broke from its confinements.
Ac-
cording to the conventional view of time, the past, present, and future
exist in an unending chain, along which man moves at an even pace, because the present moment, the
"NOX-J,"
successive motion, form the medium which runs regularly from birth to
death for the traditionalist.
In the tradi-
In the son-
Shakespeare's
(Il,iii)
around them in the fields of science, music and other arts; the same
attitudes that shape the scientist and the musician shape the writer
of literature.
The seventeenth century marked the emergence of the modem
world with its scientific and technological advances.
Seventeenth
time; the past was vievjed as a cumulation of independent events complete in themselves.
Wordsworth developed the living, human implication of the past, expressing relationships between the past and the present individual:
"The child is father of the Man."^
Wordsworth V7as one of the first vTriters to break the conventional rules regarding plot organization.
worth calls them, are interspersed throughout The Prelude; these moments usually precede a catastrophe, providing visionary foresight to
the boy in the poem.
places that affected him in time past and still strongly influence his
consciousness,^
Lawrence Sterne, although writing a few years earlier than
Wordsworth, was far ahead of his contemporaries in the area of time
treatment; modem literature owes much to Sterne, the first writer to
expand the moment.
theory of quantum mechanics, the scientist has come up against the dilemma of time; no longer can time be considered an absolute.
According
that man cannot, with any assurance, foresee his life as it will be
even five years in the future; the future, as V7ell as the past and present, is in a state of flux,
great change was almost unknown during the comparatively short life of
a man, the modern man's life span has doubled; and the rate of change
has accelerated, so that he is confronted again and again with the reality of a changing world.
More immediate
writer to strike out on his own, to cast off conventional attitudes v:hen
they no longer serve the purpose of the wi^iter.
posed upon human beings since, for them, time based on observations
of physical science is not natural.
is the same length, and every hour is exactly one twenty-fourth of this
interval.
ing of the human being who is not governed by the same laws as objects
without life or spirit.
a spatial nature, so time in the mind gains form from its repetitive nature, but on a personal level. Virginia Woolf s original interest VTas
to express time as a flux; only in her later novels did she try to find
something permanent VTithin the flux.
In
order for man to be able to assess his own personal time, there must
be a stationary standard by V7hich to measure it; Virginia Woolf s "moments" constitute this standard.
Even in the conventional novel, time treatment determines the
structure of the work, as well as how the characters will be presented
V7ithin that frameviork.
Time
8
has a particularly profound influence on the structure of the modern
novel.
explains that Virginia V/oolf does not depend on a chronological pattern, but, rather, bases her insights into experience upon making patterns within time that do not depend on chronology.^ ^
Woolf, she manages to put more direction and unity into her fiction
than does Joyce,
ness technique is representative of our modern age because it is a revolt against the tyranny of passing time.^^
The stream of consciousness m.ethod and the new structural patterns employed by Virginia Woolf affect her characters to a great extent,
Remote from conventional operations of time, her characters move in a
complex world of ever-changing flux, and they are, for the most part,
aware of its implications.
understands time better than the others do: Jacob, Bernard, Orlando
and Eleanor in the novels analyzed in this study.
helps other characters bring their oim time concepts into perspective.
As the first of Virginia Woolfs time novels, Jacob's Room is
a fitting representative of her earlier fiction, with stress on the
value of mind-time over clock-time.
books, including The Years, Virginia Woolf, with the maturity and experience of almost thirty years of writing, recognized and captured
the eternal recurrence within the moment that can counteract the flux.
It is the purpose of this study to trace the development of the writer
through these four representative novels.
CHAPTER II
philosophers
and other writers had been experimenting with a new approach to time
treatment years before she was born, and she was aware of their successes and failures.
her admiration for Sterne, a novelist who lived a hundred and fifty years
earlier; she respects him for his technical innovations and for his courage to write in a unique way.
fellow V7riters Proust and Joyce, vjho V7ere, in turn, greatly affected by
the books of the French philosopher Bergson.
According to statements
10
11
follows another.
His
To
All states of
time floxvT together, ignoring the unnatural succession which clock time
attempts to impose.
that which is imposed upon man by space, but that v;hich lives within
his mind.
central theme of all his novels; the past is rediscovered by interrupting Bergson's duree.
12
Proust
His
To
both Proust and Bergson, Virginia VJoolf owes her sense of recreation
of the past in the present and use of catalysts to cause this recreation.
She differs from Proust and Bergson in her use of the moment in the novel
which interruots the sense of continuous duration and makes life seem to
i.
stand still.
The writings of James Joyce also had a formative effect on
Virginia Woolfs development.
13
of the Artist as a Young Man, as well as "what promises to be a far more
interesting work, Ulysses." which was then appearing in serial form in
the Little Revievj.^
technique of Joyce's and, indeed, felt at times that she was only writing
a poor imitation of the Irishman's style.
tial or historical time : time as the span of my life, rather than the
indefinitely stretching medium measurable by clocks or planetary motions. " The span of an individual's life follows a personal time; he
is aware of the end of his time, death, and also its beginning,
ner from past through present to future, but out of the future, through
the past and then to the present.
time turns back to assimilate the past v;hich has produced the present.'^
14
merely affirmed and further solidified ideas that vrere already taking
form in her mind, ideas which were to have their oim profound effect on
a new generation of writers.
CHAPTER III
JACOB'S ROOM
Virginia Woolf was searching for a new form when she began work
on Jacob's Room, a novel vjhich was to have "no scaffolding; scarcely a
brick to be seen; all crepuscular, but the heart, the passion, humour,
everything as bright as fire in the mist."'
traditional forms she had used in her first txTO novels, The Voyage Out
and Night and Day, to lay the foundation for a new technique which
would allow her to express her concept of the flux of life.
After the
first two novels, her books have no rigid plots; one event is neither
the cause nor the result of another event.
are no longer precisely situated in time and space; and, therefore, her
works contain no real beginning and no definite conclusions.
With its
Jacob's Room is an attempt at the renunciation of all that had been considered essential for an accurate representation of life.
In her essay
on Modern Fiction, Virginia Woolf explains V7hat she is trying to accomplish in Jacob's Room:
. . . if a writer were a free man and not a slave, if he
could write what he chose, not V7hat he must, if he could
base his work upon his own feeling and not upon convention,
there would be no plot, no comedy, no tragedy, no love
interest or catastrophe in the accepted style. . . .2
15
16
On April l6, 1920, Virginia V/oolf started work on Jacob's Room
with much enthusiasm for the new technique,3 but it proved far more
difficult to write than it was to conceive.
posing, she became more and more convinced that she would not succeed
in making Jacob's Room an innovation in the field of literature.
By
the end of September, she began to feel that "What I'm doing is probably being done better by Mr. Joyce."^
There
By abandoning traditional
plot structure, Virginia Woolf could create new experiences in the area
of time development.
Each section is
17
If his new work is to be of any value, a writer cannot abandon
one form without creating another to take its place.
Virginia Woolf
based her concept of time on the way it exists in the mind; she felt
that her new form must be consistent with the manner in which the mind
relates and structures new and stored materials.
Since structure in
Jacob's Room, Virginia Woolf presents a mind through which the objects
of the past and present move.
then a few are repeated, and, out of this procedure a pattern emerges :
"Let us record the atoms as they fall, let us trace the pattern, however disconnected and incoherent in appearance which each sight or
incident scores upon the consciousness."^
While he is attending chapel at Cambridge, Jacob looks at the
glass windows and thinks of a lantern, V7hich reminds him of one he had
used to catch moths at night; he is, in this way, brought back in time
to other incidents of his childhood,
A pattern is beginning to be
Again,
18
clearing of his rooms for reoccupation by another; the pattern is preparing to repeat itself.
Jacob!"
the opening scene of the novel when Archer seeks his brother among the
rocks, shouting "JacobI
Jacob!"
will outlast the lives of those set against it. The sea gives man a
proper perspective on his life, but it also serves Virginia V/oolf as
representative of the way in which time flows. Time in Jacob's Room
jumps forward and backward as waves on the sea do; and, yet, the particles of water within the wave are stationary, the same cycle repeating itself over and over again.
19
experiences of the characters.
Mrs. Flanders
20
ters, the reader learns most of what he knows about Jacob from the point
of view of observers,
Virginia
from the older lady who shares his railvjay carriage on the way to
Cambridge :
Taking note of his socks (loose), of tie (shabby), she once
more reached his face. She dwelt upon his mouth. The lips
were shut. The eyes bent doT>m, since he was reading. All
was firm, yet youthful, indifferent, unconsciousas for
knocking one dovin! No, no, no! She looked out of the x-Tindow, smiling slightly now, and then came back again, for he
didn't notice her. Grave, unconscious . . . now he looked
up, past her . . . he seemed so out of place, somehow, alone
with an elderly lady . . . then he fixed his eyeswhich were
blueon the landscape. . . . Nobody sees anyone as he is, let
alone an elderly lady sitting opposite a strange young man in
a railway carriage. They see a wholethey see all sorts of
thingsthey see themselves. . . . H
Jacob's Room is the first of Virginia V7oolf s novels to reflect
the new Bergson concept of time, the great disparity between clock time
and reality.
21
authors, including Joyce, Proust, and V/oolf, to free the novel from such
an arbitrary standard.
Although
Jacob's Room was the first of her novels to reject the old method of
characterization and tirae treatment, her new technique had not been used
with the ease and assurance that v7ould characterize succeeding novels.
Nevertheless, Virginia Woolf w^as proud of Jacob's Room and felt that at
last she was putting her o\\^ philosophy into words.
CHAPTER IV
For Virginia Woolf, the past and present flow together and
are as one.
Thus, the unity among individuals from the past to the pres-
23
Orlando was, for Virginia Woolf, an enjoyable interlude of
fantasy before she was to undertake the more serious "mystical" book
entitled The Waves.
she read Knole and the Sackvilles. a family history of a good friend,
Victoria Sackville-Vfest, By creating one person, Orlando, who was to
have lived through the Elizabethan, Restoration, and Victorian Ages,
Virginia Woolf illustrates continuity in a concrete manner. The book
follows Orlando from a young man during the Elizabethan Age to a woman
in October,,1928, the "present time."
2k
Six characters flow along the stream, traveling from their childhood
to middle age.
In
Parallel to these
stages of life is the course of the sun on its daily journey across the
sky.
In her diary,
Virginia Woolf explains her reason for setting "people against time and
the sea."
voice beating out time against the shore, a voice which remains persistent despite such individuals as Bernard, Susan, Rhoda, Neville, Jinny,
and Louis.
For Virginia V/oolf, time is conceived of as a succession of
individual moments : both The V/aves and Orlando attempt to explore and
express these moments, as in this observation by Rhoda:
. . . I perceived from your coats and umbrellas, even at a
distance, how you stand embedded in a substance made of repeated moments run together,3
25
Time possesses no before and after; the present is not the end toward
which the past has moved, but only one of a series of moments which must
be viewed as part of the ever-changing flux of time.
Orlando lives
more than three hundred years, yet is only thirty-six years old at the
close of the novel.
The unimagina-
26
Often the sound of a chiming clock breaks violently into
Orlando's mental processes, striking "vTith an av7ful and ominous voice,
a voice full of horror and alarm."
thrusts itself upon the characters, dravdng them from the contemplation of unity with the past to a consideration of the present moment as
stagnant and rootless :
Yes, but suddenly one hears a clock tick, V/e who had been
immersed in this world became aware of another. It is painful. It was Neville who changed our time. He who had been
thinking \^7ith the unlimited time of the mind, which stretches
in a flash from Shakespeare to ourselves, poked the fire and
began to live by that other clock which marks the approach
of a particular person. The wide and dignified sv7eep of his
mind contracted. He became on the alert. . . . I noted how
he touched a cushion. From the myriads of mankind and all
time past, he had chosen one person one moment in particular.7
The chief constituent of time in the mind must be memory, that
agent which breaks down mathematical time and makes it fluid.
Only in
In Orlando, the
1928 as the modem writer whose sensibilities have been developed through
direct contact V7ith the historical past.
Continuity, then, exists not only \vdthin the life of the individual, but also within the history of the human r^ce.
27
laid down in the past continue to live in the human mind of the present,
Bergson offers a concrete explanation of this layering by visualizing
the universe as an indefinite canvas upon which images can be drawn
indefinitely.
cessive images that make up the entire history of the universe,^ Virginia Woolf views Orlando's own Bergsonian canvas of impressions as
collective on a lump of glass.
And so, the thought of love would be all ambered over vTith snow
and winter; with log and the bark of stags; with old King James
slobbering. . . , Every single thing, once he tried to dislodge
it from its place in his mind, he found thus cumbered with other
matter like the lump of glass which, after a year at the bottom
of the sea, is grovTn about viith bones and dragonflies, and corns
and the tresses of drowned women.9
The multiplicity of Orlando as first man, then woman, living in different eras and with different appearances, is yet contradicted by the underlying unity of a single mind which is the recipient of a single heritage throughout its three hundred and fifty years.
Not
28
During a train trip, Louis realizes that he is a direct descendant in time of the Egyptians in the era of the Pharoahs.
He recognizes
that he has lived a thousand years already and sees himself as having
been an Arab prince, a poet in the time of Queen Elizabeth, a Duke at
the court of Louis the Fourteenth, and as having listened to songs on
the banks of the Nile.
Its genre of
29
fantasy allowed Virginia Woolf to step outside of reality and create
her o m world to express only time in the mind.
trays continuity of time as one long strand of three hundred and sixty
years, as in Orlando, or as six shorter strands of sixty years each, as
in The V/aves, the result is the same; time is measured not by minutes
and years, but by intense moments, the crests of individual experience.
CHAPTER V
THE YEARS
gradual decay of the somev7hat hypocritical, but stable, Victorian culture and the world's entrance into an age of confusion which yet offers the possibility of a more meaningful future. The characters in
the novel who are aware of the coming disorder seek something which is
solid and permanent in the world of continual flux.
30
31
novels.
As the years
march steadily on, the generations grow old, one after another. Structurally, the book is divided into two parts; two-thirds of the novel
concentrates upon the years from 1880 to 1917, while the final third
is devoted to the present day.
novel form than any of Virginia Woolf s other works; in it she attempts
to combine forras to make something that is both new and traditional,
Daiches says that, by the time she wrote The Years. Virginia Woolf
had achieved such control over her words that she did not need to depend on unique patterns and symbolic structure; she felt free at last
to use simple, chronological sequence.2 The large scale upon which
The Years is written requires an element of narration that is not necessary in a more restricted novel. There is, again, no plot in the traditional sense of a beginning, middle, and end.
A different year forras the title for each of the book's eleven
sections, but there is no consistent order or rhythm of years: 1880,
1891, 1907, I9O8, 1910, 1911, 1913, 191^. 1917, I9I8, and "the present
day."
Further
extending the pattern of the seasons, each year, except the last, ends
32
with either a physical or a spiritual death.
with Mrs. Pargiter's funeral; I89I, with leaves falling and autumn coming; and 1907, with lights going out.
Eleanor, who speaks for Virginia V/oolf more than does any other
character, recognizes a pattern within her life that is apart from repetition within the seasons :
And suddenly it seemed to Eleanor that it had all happened
before, . . . Does everything then come over again a little
differently? she thought. If so, is there a pattern; a theme,
recurring, like music; half remembered, half foreseen? , . .
a gigantic pattern, momentarily perceptible? The thought
gave her extreme pleasure; that there was a pattern.3
A sense of circles is a unifying technique in The Years comparable to the process of unification in many other Woolf novels.
and time are portrayed as ever-widening circles.
Life
191^, Martin visits a park in which the rooks fly around and around the
tree tops, the omnibuses swirl and circle the near-by church, and Martin
tosses "his bread round him in a circle," soon becoming "haloed by a
circle of fluttering wings."^
33
personal values are important to Virginia Woolf in The Years, as well
as in her last book. Between the Acts.
mit to the society in which he lives, and that society is far from ideal.
I ^ Years stresses the wrong done to the individual by society, and, for
the first time in a novel, Woolf admits the existence of the sordid and
the painful as part of the present moment.
such as The V/aves. consider a severely limited world, rather than the
broad all-inclusive world of The Years.
Iii Years is not so different from The Waves as it might appear, however.
dle or old age.
Both novels follow a group of people from youth to midThese human beings are brought together by life, and
Each person is a separate being; yet his life overflows in space and
time to become part of an enduring unity.
and fuses the major characters in both The Waves and The Years and is
followed by a series of confrontations during which the individual natures of the characters are brought out. The final chapter of both
novels is a general summing up and a final revelation of the characters
and their relationships to one another.
by the people traveling within the years; they are the result of people
who came before them, and they help shape the next generation.
Rose
3^
They talked, she thought, as if Abercorn Terrace were a scene
in a play. They talked as if they were speaking of people
who were real, but not real in the way in which she felt herself to be real. It puzzled her; it made her feel that she
was two different people at the same time; that she was living at two different times at the same moment,7
. A character becomes aware of this sense of oneness in a "moment"
of perception during which he feels a union with all experience.
Early
moments in The Years are responsible for creating memories that the
character can return to when present life has become meaningless.
Each
moment in Virginia Woolfs novels is accompanied by a natural occurrence, such as the falling of leaves or the whitening of the sky in
both The V/aves and The Years.
perception gains insight into himself and his relationships with others.
In her later novels, Virginia Woolf captures the final mystic sensation,
a fusion between the mind of the character and the flow of his recurring
experiences.
The sense of unity "was originally felt to be with God, but Vir-
ginia V/oolf was so disillusioned by organized religion that she humanistically substituted a union with all mankind for the traditional
unity VTith a Supreme Being.
35
the whole of eternity.
such a moment, she recognizes its true relationship vdth tirae : "She
was happy, completely.
"Life is not
Eleanor, the
key figure, has grown old, but rather than dwell on past events and
people, she puts her hope for a vital future in the young people whose
task it is to shape tomorrow's world.
36
series of events, but only as it is picked up and considered in a character's mind.
event itself; the past is brought forward by the present and becomes
part of the present in the character's mind, as when Rose's "past seemed
to be rising above her present."12
Eleanor does not respect the past enough to emulate it. Her
father. Colonel Pargiter, had dominated his children, while Eleanor
recognizes the right of the young to be free of arbitrary rules. With
her dismissal of the old family servant, Crosby, along with her sale of
the Pargiter house, Eleanor leaves behind the old culture and tradition
with few regrets:
gether wrong.
Eleanor has lived in the past and recognizes it for vjhat it was, her
young niece, Peggy, mistakenly thinks of the past as "so interesting;
so safe ; so unrealthat past of the eighties; and to her, so beautiful
in its unreality."'
All of the major characters in The Years share an intense preoccupation with the immediate moment.
37
understand her vision that the present moment is no longer an end in
itself, but also a means to the future.
It is difficult for
Virginia V/oolf to persist in an enthusiasm for the future, but she does
see hope in the younger generation.
day." the children of the caretaker, the future workers, are asked to
talk; yet, Peggy erroneously suggests that "The younger generation don't
mean to speak."1^
unintelligible lyrics :
Etho passo tanno hai
Fai donk to tu do,
Mai to, kai to, lai to see
Toh dom to tuh d o
That was what it sounded like. Not a word was recognizable.
The distorted sounds rose and sank as if they followed a
tune, , . , The grown-up people did not know whether to
laugh or to cry. Their voices were so harsh; the accent was
so hideous.17
The distorted sounds of the new generation are meaningless and frightening to most of the older generation.
38
The intrusion of clock time in The Years is kept at a minimum
because Virginia Woolf is not fighting traditional form as she had
done in previous novels.
But
clock time does intrude upon and frighten those outside of man's timeoriented world :
Then there was a ripple in the air. The great clock, all the
clocks of the city, seemed to be gathering their forces together; they seemed to be whirring a preliminary warning.
Then the stroke struck, "One" blared out. All the sparrows
fluttered up into the air; even the pigeons were frightened. . . . 1 9
Despite the ominous overtones of The Years, including war and
chaos, the novel is essentially optimistic.
At the con-
clusion of ^he Years, Eleanor sees in the newly married couple a beginning and a continuation of the pattern toward goodness. The sense of
flow never ceases; for the first chapter of The Years picks up the flow,
and the reader has a sense of continued flow at the end.
None of Vir-
ginia Woolf s novels ends with a real concluding statement, but with a
sense of continuation.
endings.
Where the tune is familiar and the end emphaticlovers united,
villains discomfited, intrigues exposedas it is in most Victorian fiction, we can scarcely go wrong, but where the tune
is unfamiliar and the end a note of interrogation or merely the
information that they went on talking, as it is in Tchekov, we
need a very daring and alert sense of literature to make us
hear the tune, and in particular those last notes which complete the harmony.20
39
At the end of The Years, the movement from the past to the
future continues.
CHAPTER VI'
CONCLUSION
Beginning \n.th
success at modifying conventional novel form; for, not until The Years
appeared, was Virginia Woolf able to express her concept of time adequately within a traditional novel.
cept of time by an author who has come closer than any other to expressing time as it actually is experienced by man.
ko
NOTES
Chapter I
^J. B, Priestly, Man and Time (New York: Doubleday and Company,
Inc., 196^), p. 61,
2williara Shakespeare, Shakespeare's Sonnets, ed. by Edward Bliss
Reed (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1923), p. 58.
3 A . A. Mendilow, Time and the Novel (New York: Humanities
Press, 1965), p. k>
Mf/illiara Wordsworth, The Poetical Works of Wordsworth, ed. by
Thomas Hutchinson (London: Oxford University Press, 1939) p. 578.
3lbid., p. 587.
^Geoffrey H. Hartman, Wordsworth^ Poetry, 1787-181^ (New Haven:
Yale University Press, I965), p. 211.
7Mendilow, 2 i ^ P* ^*
Wilbur Urban, The Intelligible World (London: G. Allen and
Unwin, 1929).
^Virginia V/oolf, "Modern Fiction," in Modern British Fiction,
ed, by Mark Schorer (New York: Oxford University Press, I96I), p. 3.
"'^Margaret Church, Time and Reality (North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press, I963), p. 100.
11 David Daiches, Virginia Woolf (New York: Vail-Ballow Press,
Inc., 1963), p. 5^.
"'^Priestly, Man, p. 115.
Chapter II
IChurch, Time, p, 101,
2priestly, Man, pp. 12^-125.
ill
42
3lbid., p. 125.
Parcel Proust, Remembrance of Things Past (New York: Random
House, 1932), p. 195.
^Virginia Woolf, Granite and Rainbow (Nev7 York: Harcourt,
Brace and Company, 1958), p. 125.
^Woolf, Modern, p. 7.
7lbid., p. 7.
%arjorie Grene, Martin Heidegger (New York: Hillary House,
1957), p. 28.
9jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness, trans by Hazel E.
Barnes (New York : Philosophical Library, 1956), p. 329.
lOQrene, Heidegger, p. 37.
Chapter III
1 Virginia Woolf, A VsViter's Diary, edited by Leonard Woolf
(New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 195^)
2Woolf, Modem, p. 6.
3woolf, Diary, p. 2k.
^Ibid., p. 27.
. 5woolf, Modern, p. 7.
^Virginia Woolf. Jacob's Room (London: The Hogarth Press,
1954), P. 12.
7woolf, Jacob'_s Room, p. 3k*
%bid.. p, 82.
9lbid., pp. 5-6.
lOibid., p. 69.
11Ibid., pp. 28-29.
^^Ibid,, p. 132.
43
''3woolf, Diary, p . 51^^Ibid,, p , 47.
Chapter IV
^0. G. Jung, The Archetypes anj the Collective Unconscious
(New York: Bollingen Foundation, I n c . , 1959), p. 43.
2Alexander H, Krappe, The Science of Folklore (New York:
W, W. Norton and Company, I n c . , 1964), p . 233.
^Virginia V/oolf, The Waves (New York: Harcourt, Brace and
Company, 1931), p . 222.
V i r g i n i a Woolf, Orlando (New York:
of World L i t e r a t u r e , I n c . , I96O), p . 64.
5 i b i d . , p , 64.
^ I b i d . , p . 38,
7Woolf, V/aves, p. 273.
%enri Bergson, Duration and Simultaneity (Indianapolis:
Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc., 1965), p. 59.
^Woolf, Orlando. p, 65*
lOwoolf, The Waves, p, 249.
^hbid.. p, 195.
12lbid,, pp. 114-115.
13lbid., p. 146.
I^Woolf, Orlando, p. 201.
13woolf, The Waves, p. 276.
Chapter V
^Woolf, Diary, pp. 183-184.
^Daiches, V/oolf, p. 113*
piiiin,ji|.fl^r
44
^Virginia Woolf, The Years (New York: Harcourt, Brace and
Company, 1937). p. 369.
^Ibid,, p, 227.
^Ibid., p. 41.
6woolf, Diary, p. 140.
7woolf, Years. p. I67,
%ans Meyerhoff, Time in Literature (Berkeley and Los Angeles :
The University of California Press, 1955), pp. 6O-6I.
^Woolf, Years, p, 278,
^^oolf. Modern, p. 6.
^^Woolf, Years, p. 367,
l^lbid.. p. 166.
13lbid., p, 217.
^^Ibid.. p, 333.
13lbid,, p, 323.
I^Ibid,. p, 429.
^7lbid.. pp. 429-431.
^%bid., pp. 430-431.
^^Ibid., p. 227.
Virginia Woolf, The Common Reader (New York: Harcourt, Brace
and Company, 1925), p. 247.
^^Woolf, Years, pp. 434-435.
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