A Writer’s Diary
Virginia Woolf – Part #15
December 29th, 1940
Virginia Woolf at 58 yrs.
of the art
like a wasp
if the blossom
as it did
to the cliffs.
on the edge.
in the wet.
of old age
I feel it.
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3 Months later on 28th March 1941 Virginia Woolf filled her coat pockets with
Stones, walked into the River Ouse near her home in Sussex and drowned herself.
Headlines stated she had disappeared but it was suspected she was dead. Three
weeks after she committed suicide by drowning, she was found. Leonard Woolf
had her cremated. Virginia Woolf’s ashes were buried under the intertwined Elm
Trees, nicknamed “Virginia and Leonard” by them, at Monk’s House, their Summer
Home. Both their homes in London had been destroyed by bombs during World
War II. Leonard Woolf, Virginia’s husband, was devastated. She left a note for
him and one for her sister Vanessa Bell. There was a huge outpouring from
friends, family, acquaintances, strangers, fans and admirers who were send-
ing their condolences. It was a shock to all, the loss of Virginia Woolf.
At the bottom of post I will leave a copy of the suicide note
Virginia Woolf wrote for her husband Leonard Woolf.
These are the last passages from Virginia Woolf’s A Writer’s Diary, BUT ONLY TEMPORARILY.
I will be presenting further excerpts
from Virginia Woolf’s A Writer’s Diary in the near future.
Thank You For Following Her Brilliant Words as her Gift to All of Us.
THANK YOU VIRGINIA WOOLF FOR BEING SO GENEROUS.
WE HAVE YOUR GIFTS TO LEARN FROM & WE ARE ABLE
TO ABSORB FROM THE DEPTH OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE, YOUR
BRILLIANCE & YOUR SENSITIVITY. I KNOW I AM GRATEFUL
TO HAVE FOUND YOU. YOU ARE IMPORTANT TO ME. I FEEL
THE PAIN YOU SUFFERED & HOPE YOU HAVE FOUND PEACE.
Erik Satie: Gnossienne No. 1, 2, 3
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Virginia Woolf’s Handwritten Suicide Note to Her Husband Leonard
A Painful & Poignant Farewell [28th March 1941]
Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don’t think two people could have been happier ’til this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. I can’t read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that—everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer. I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been. V.
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