My friend Jill gave me this book a few weeks ago. The timing for reading such a book couldn't be better.
"Strife, divisions, difference of opinion, prejudices twisted into the very fibre of being, oh, that they should begin so early, Mrs Ramsay deplored. They were so critical, her children. They talked such nonsense. She went from the dining room, holding James by the hand, since he would not go with the others. It seemed to her such nonsense---inventing differences, when people, heaven knows, were different enough without that. The real differences, she thought, standing by the drawing-room window, are enough, quite enough."
_To The Lighthouse_, by Virginia Woolf
Today I am thankful for any true humility that still exists in this world.
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