Місіс Деллоуей

           Toseeyourownsisterkilledbyafallingtree(allJustinParry’sfault—allhiscarelessness)beforeyourveryeyes,agirltooonthevergeoflife,themostgiftedofthem,Clarissaalwayssaid,wasenoughtoturnonebitter.Latershewasn’tsopositiveperhaps;shethoughttherewerenoGods;noonewastoblame;andsosheevolvedthisatheist’sreligionofdoinggoodforthesakeofgoodness.

           Andofcoursesheenjoyedlifeimmensely.Itwashernaturetoenjoy(thoughgoodnessonlyknows,shehadherreserves;itwasameresketch,heoftenfelt,thatevenhe,afteralltheseyears,couldmakeofClarissa).Anyhowtherewasnobitternessinher;noneofthatsenseofmoralvirtuewhichissorepulsiveingoodwomen.Sheenjoyedpracticallyeverything.IfyouwalkedwithherinHydeParknowitwasabedoftulips,nowachildinaperambulator,nowsomeabsurdlittledramashemadeuponthespurofthemoment.(Verylikely,shewouldhavetalkedtothoselovers,ifshehadthoughtthemunhappy.)Shehadasenseofcomedythatwasreallyexquisite,butsheneededpeople,alwayspeople,tobringitout,withtheinevitableresultthatshefritteredhertimeaway,lunching,dining,givingtheseincessantpartiesofhers,talkingnonsense,sayingsthingsshedidn’tmean,bluntingtheedgeofhermind,losingherdiscrimination.