My own brain is to me the most unaccountable of machinery, always buzzing, humming, soaring, roaring, diving, and then buried in mud. And why? What's this passion for? Virginia Woolf
My own brain is to me the most unaccountable of machinery, always buzzing, humming, soaring, roaring, diving, and then buried in mud. And why? What's this passion for? Virginia Woolf