The melancholy river bears us on. When the moon comes through the trailing willow boughs, I see your face, I hear your voice and the bird singing as we pass the osier bed. What are you whispering? Sorrow, sorrow. Joy, joy. Woven together, like reeds in moonlight.

-Virginia Woolf

Select a background
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image

More quotes by Virginia Woolf