TO: LEONARD WOOLF
\nRodmell,
\nSussex
\nTuesday (18? March 1941)<\/p>\n
Dearest, I feel certain 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 till 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.<\/p>\n
I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been.<\/p>\n
V.<\/p>\n
March 28, 1941. <\/b> After writing that note to her husband, Virginia Woolf put rocks in her pockets and drowned herself in the River Ouse.<\/p>\n
Please go read my friend Ted’s beautiful post on To the Lighthouse<\/i><\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" TO: LEONARD WOOLF Rodmell, Sussex Tuesday (18? March 1941) Dearest, I feel certain 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, … Continue reading