"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me to believe in sentient meat."
Fläscherlich.
Punktfreie Smaragdfrösche.
"If this is love," said Orlando to herself, looking at the Archduke on the other side of the fender, and now from the woman's point of view, "there is something highly ridiculous about it."
[...]
Was it impossible then to go for a walk without being half suffocated, presented with a toad set in emeralds, and asked in marriage by an Archduke?
Virginia Woolf: Orlando: A Biography
Herinnerung.
Orlando had become a woman—there is no denying it. But in every other respect, Orlando remained precisely as he had been. The change of sex, though it altered their future, did nothing whatever to alter their identity. Their faces remained, as their portraits prove, practically the same. His memory—but in future we must, for convention's sake, say 'her' for 'his,' and 'she' for 'he'—her memory then, went back through all the events of her past life without encountering any obstacle.
Virginia Woolf: Orlando: A Biography
Ask and give.
In short, there was nothing for it but to ask her in and give her a glass of wine.
Virginia Woolf: Orlando: A Biography
Freiplätze.
Chairs and tables, however richly gilt and carved, sofas, resting on lions' paws with swans' necks curving under them, beds even of the softest swansdown are not by themselves enough. People sitting in them, people lying in them improve them amazingly.
Virginia Woolf: Orlando: A Biography
Kurzarbeit.
... when a man has reached the age of thirty, as Orlando now had, time when he is thinking becomes inordinately long; time when he is doing becomes inordinately short.
Virginia Woolf: Orlando: A Biography
Schreibk(r)ampf.
Anyone moderately familiar with the rigours of composition will not need to be told the story in detail; how he wrote and it seemed good; read and it seemed vile; corrected and tore up; cut out; put in; was in ecstasy; in despair; had his good nights and bad mornings; snatched at ideas and lost them; saw his book plain before him and it vanished;
Virginia Woolf: Orlando: A Biography