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Mrs. Dalloway
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Mrs. Dalloway
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  • For instance, in Mrs. Dalloway (1925), Lady Bruton invites Richard Dalloway, a member of Parliament, and Hugh Whitbread, who has a position at court, to luncheon.
    Thomas C. Foster  --  How to Read Literature Like a Professor
  • There were always people about talking of artists I had never heard of, Pablo Picasso and Joan Miró, and books I had no time to read, T. E. Lawrence’s Seven Pillars of Wisdom, and Mrs. Dalloway, by someone called Virginia Woolf, who came once to Frieda’s.
    Gloria Whelan  --  Listening for Lions
  • Mrs. Dalloway, by Virginia Woolf.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway

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  • "I love walking in London," said Mrs. Dalloway.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • Mrs. Dalloway, coming to the window with her arms full of sweet peas, looked out with her little pink face pursed in enquiry.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • It is probably the Queen, thought Mrs. Dalloway, coming out of Mulberry’s with her flowers; the Queen.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • But, said Mrs. Dalloway, she had enough on her hands already, quite enough of her own to do without that.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • "Mrs. Dalloway will see me," said the elderly man in the hall.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • The violent explosion which made Mrs. Dalloway jump and Miss Pym go to the window and apologise came from a motor car which had drawn to the side of the pavement precisely opposite Mulberry’s shop window.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway

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  • Mrs. Dalloway raised her hand to her eyes, and, as the maid shut the door to, and she heard the swish of Lucy’s skirts, she felt like a nun who has left the world and feels fold round her the familiar veils and the response to old devotions.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • But Mrs. Dalloway had not.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • So now, whenever the hot and painful feelings boiled within her, this hatred of Mrs. Dalloway, this grudge against the world, she thought of God.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • But Miss Kilman did not hate Mrs. Dalloway.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • She despised Mrs. Dalloway from the bottom of her heart.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • Instead of lying on a sofa— "My mother is resting," Elizabeth had said—she should have been in a factory; behind a counter; Mrs. Dalloway and all the other fine ladies!
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • Mrs. Dalloway said.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • She had the oddest sense of being herself invisible; unseen; unknown; there being no more marrying, no more having of children now, but only this astonishing and rather solemn progress with the rest of them, up Bond Street, this being Mrs. Dalloway; not even Clarissa any more; this being Mrs. Richard Dalloway.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • A sweet savour filled her veins, her lips parted, and, standing formidable upon the landing in her mackintosh, she looked with steady and sinister serenity at Mrs. Dalloway, who came out with her daughter.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • In Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, her damaged Great War veteran, Septimus Warren Smith, commits suicide because his enemies are coming to get him.
    Thomas C. Foster  --  How to Read Literature Like a Professor
  • "But, thank you, Lucy, oh, thank you," said Mrs. Dalloway, and thank you, thank you, she went on saying (sitting down on the sofa with her dress over her knees, her scissors, her silks), thank you, thank you, she went on saying in gratitude to her servants generally for helping her to be like this, to be what she wanted, gentle, generous-hearted.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • Mrs. Dalloway had triumphed.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • "We are shockingly late, dear Mrs. Dalloway, we hardly dared to come in," she said.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • That was the bond between them, and Hutton (a very bad poet) always felt that Mrs. Dalloway was far the best of the great ladies who took an interest in art.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • Michael Cunningham’s novel The Hours (1998) is a reworking of Virginia Woolf’s modern classic, Mrs. Dalloway, in which a shell-shocked veteran of the Great War disintegrates and commits suicide.
    Thomas C. Foster  --  How to Read Literature Like a Professor
  • He had his duties; his tenants; a mother and sisters; had been all day at Lords, and that was what they were talking about— cricket, cousins, the movies—when Mrs. Dalloway came up.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • The ladies were going upstairs already, said Lucy; the ladies were going up, one by one, Mrs. Dalloway walking last and almost always sending back some message to the kitchen, "My love to Mrs. Walker," that was it one night.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • Nevertheless her inquiry, "How’s Clarissa?" was known by women infallibly, to be a signal from a well-wisher, from an almost silent companion, whose utterances (half a dozen perhaps in the course of a lifetime) signified recognition of some feminine comradeship which went beneath masculine lunch parties and united Lady Bruton and Mrs. Dalloway, who seldom met, and appeared when they did meet indifferent and even hostile, in a singular bond.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • But, as he stood gazing about him, at the white marbles, grey window panes, and accumulated treasures (for he was extremely proud of the Abbey), her largeness, robustness, and power as she sat there shifting her knees from time to time (it was so rough the approach to her God—so tough her desires) impressed him, as they had impressed Mrs. Dalloway (she could not get the thought of her out of her mind that afternoon), the Rev.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • She was Lady Angela, attending Princess Mary, when in came Mrs. Dalloway.) "Oh Lucy," she said, "the silver does look nice!"
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • Who can—what can," asked Mrs. Dalloway (thinking it was outrageous to be interrupted at eleven o’clock on the morning of the day she was giving a party), hearing a step on the stairs.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • Dear!" said Clarissa, and Lucy shared as she meant her to her disappointment (but not the pang); felt the concord between them; took the hint; thought how the gentry love; gilded her own future with calm; and, taking Mrs. Dalloway’s parasol, handled it like a sacred weapon which a Goddess, having acquitted herself honourably in the field of battle, sheds, and placed it in the umbrella stand.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
  • Sinking her voice, drawing Mrs. Dalloway into the shelter of a common femininity, a common pride in the illustrious qualities of husbands and their sad tendency to overwork, Lady Bradshaw (poor goose—one didn’t dislike her) murmured how, "just as we were starting, my husband was called up on the telephone, a very sad case.
    Virginia Woolf  --  Mrs. Dalloway
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