Virginia Woolf (1882-1941) was een Engelse schrijfster. Ze hield vrijwel haar hele leven een dagboek bij.
Thursday 6 June
These gaps [in the diary] are accounted for by the weather. It's not weather for drawing up to the fire and settling in. Carrington came to tea with me [and] stayed over two hours; and I think that by itself is a sign of youth. She is odd from her mixture of impulse and self consciousness; so eager to please, conciliatory, restless, and active. I suppose the tug of Lytton's influence deranges her spiritual balance a good deal. She has still an immense admiration for him and us. She looks at a picture as an artist looks at it; she has taken over the Strachey valuation of peopie and art; but she is such a bustling eager creature, so red and solid, and at the same time inquisitive, that one can't help liking her. She posted me up in all the gossip. Lytton complains that the critics haven't attacked his judgments. They have copied each other and complimented him without much fineness. Still his book goes into another edition. I haven't yet read it through.
Friday 7 June
L.[Leonard, Virginia's husband] was told the other day that the raids are carried out by women. Women's bodies were found in the wrecked aeroplanes. They are smaller and lighter, and thus leave more room for bombs. Perhaps it is sentimental, but the thought seems to me to add a particular touch of horror.