Virginia Woolf’s ideal university had no chapel. Mine has more than one.
Walking together through Sussex and To The Lighthouse.
On the feast of St. Paul's conversion, Google kept reminding me that it was also Virginia Woolf's birthday.
In To the Lighthouse, two people who don't get along find themselves looking at a bowl of fruit. "Looking together," writes Woolf, "united them."
The journals of Merton, Woolf and others encouraged me to see my birthday as a new beginning—and to live my 50th year as a year of jubilee.
Are faith and doubt opposites? Thérèse of Lisieux and Virginia Woolf are part of the same history.
During spring break I made a pilgrimage. With my husband and my daughter, I traced the path Virginia Woolf took through Italy in 1908.