From the diary of Virginia Woolf, Jan. 9, 1924, as she and her husband are about to move out of the home they had lived in for the previous twelve years:

“I’ve had some very curious visions in this room too, lying in bed, mad, and seeing the sunlight quivering like gold water on the wall. I’ve heard the voice of the dead here. And felt, through it all, exquisitely happy.”