For pain words are lacking. There should be cries, cracks, fissures, whiteness passing over chintz covers, interference with the sense of time, of space ; the sense also of extreme fixity in passing objects ; and sounds very remote and then very close ; flesh being gashed and blood sparting, a joint suddenly twisted - beneath all of which appears something very important, yet remote, to be just held in solitude.” β€” Virginia Woolf, The Waves ✨ Virginia Woolf (2005). Selected Works of Virginia Woolf, p.763, Wordsworth Editions

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