"Behind the cotton wool is hidden a pattern; that we—I mean all human beings—are connected with this; that the whole world is a work of art; that we are parts of the work of art. Hamlet or a Beethoven quartet is the truth about this vast mass that we call the world. But there is no Shakespeare, there is no Beethoven; certainly and emphatically there is no God; we are the words; we are the music; we are the thing itself."
"the sensation that we are sealed vessels afloat on what it is convenient to call reality; and at some moments the sealing matter cracks; in floods reality; that is, these scenes - for why do they survive undamaged year after year unless they are made of something comparatively permanent?"
VWoolf
