From the Pocket of a Dream
“Who shall measure the heat and violence of the poet’s heart
when caught and tangled in a woman’s body…”
Plagued by mood swings, depressions and several nervous breakdownsfinally drowned herself into the river Ouse near her home, by putting rocks in her coat pockets.
An excerpt from the last note she left to her husband Leonard:
|Dearest, I feel certain I am going mad again….And I shan’t recover this time…..I am doing what seems the best thing to do….I can’t fight any longer….Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer….I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been.
Virginia Woolf was buried by her husband under an elm in their garden….