Tötungsdelikt zum Nachteil eines 49-jährigen.

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amtsdeutsch kann mich immer noch erstaunen.

garten- & landschaftsbau

Thuraday 4 October [1934]

Scene with M.'s cook & the policeman. Is there no law to defend me from omelettes like that?

A violent rain storm on the pond. The pond is covered with little white thorns; springing up & down: the pond is bristling with leaping white thorns: like the thorns on a small porcupine; bristles; then black waves: cross it: black shudders; & the little water thorns are white: a helter skelter rain, & the elms tossing it up & down: the pond overflowing on one side. Lily leaves tugging: the red flower swimming about; one leaf flapping. Then completely smooth for a moment. Then prickled: thorns like glass; but leaping up & down incessantly. A rapid smirch of shadow. Now light from the sun: green & red: shining: the pond a sage green: the grass brilliant green: red berries on the hedges: the cows very white: purple over Asheham.

virginia woolf, diary

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Tuesday 17 April [1934]

An idea about Sh[akespea]re

That the play demands coming to the surface—hence insists upon a reality wh. the novel need not have, but perhaps should have. Contact with the surface. Coming to the top. This is working out my theory of the different levels in writing, & how to combine them: for I begin to think the combination necessary. This particular relation with the surface is imposed on the dramatist of necessity: how far did it influence Shre? Idea that one cd work out a theory of fiction &c on these lines: how many levels attempted. whether kept to or not.

virginia woolf, diary

schweden: 30. februar 1712

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Sunday 22 November [1933]

I ought to have made a note on Nessa & the aeroplane last Friday—no Friday week at Croydon. We took them there at 7. Had to be up by moonlight at 6.30. Drove across an empty delicately tinted London; lines all much marked; Croydon a great space like a green race course. We stood on the top of the roof; saw the aeroplane whirl, till the propellors were lost to sight—simply evaporated: then the aeroplane takes a slow run, circles & rises. This is death I said, feeling how the human contact was completely severed. Up they went with a sublime air & disappeared like a person dying, the soul going. And we remained. I saw the plan become a little mark on the sky. And I did not at all enjoy waiting for Nessa to come back across the Alps: sat making conversation with Lady Simon. So thats over.

virginia woolf, diary

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