Virginia Woolf   an English novelist , critic and essayist. my favorite woman writer.

reared in an atmosphere of literature and learning, receiving her education in her father's own extensive library and meeting many of the outstanding literary and intelllectulal figures of the day.

i just like her writing very much coz i dun't  quite understand  her feeling and thinking very much, but there are really something in it. people always dun't understand others until they run into the very occasion.

recently i read some of her book. suddenly something special caught me into my deep mind.

then.. coming to..

something about pain.

we sometimes get hurt physically or mentaly, or both of them.

when i was a little girl, i was afraind of pain. coz i experience little, maybe even could not perceive it. when i felt, i would cry.

year after year. there was someday when i surpriselingly found that was not too much misery.

sometimes, i would feel it as a process of reality. if you just close your eyes and try to perceive it by all your mind, with thinking it is something wonderfully and interesting, you would surely not afraind it. it doesn't mean the pain dosen't  exist or you are able to feel that. you just taste it and enjoy it as sweet as the icecream you savour.

at this moment, i really feel sweet in my heart. but i dun't wanna touch it too much. just leave it where it is.

something of pain that it is worth suffering to a certain extend if it led to something more appropriate or more amazing.

sometimes, for example,when it is a special occasion, a girl have her hair curled. that do hurt a little. the lomen tree, too, on the terraces of the Ricordanza, is sometimes dipped by the gardeners in boiling water, so that they loss all their leaves, but the new leaves grew back more strongly and flourishingly.