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24527126th August7.The sea with scarcely a stain,on it;thought Lily Briscoe; the sea like a greatspread stretched like green blue silk: the sea summing up, completely calmingfrom sidtaking to her indifferent heart the city, the shore,all the strife, &all the&all strife, all [?] turmoil,&So one made phrasesBut directly one was conscious of making aphrase, it ceased to have any meaning.So one made phrases; but directly one she thought, turning away from the viewover the bay.Yes, she thought, considering how irrational most of ourfeelings are, & inevitably even she,anelderly spinster ?shed of 44,& howdirectlyonebecame consciousof making themthey burst,havinggonemad was at the mercy of phrases, [& could not extricate herselffrom their dominion] of waves of feeling, very likely that is their boat.Even with the little wind there is, presumably they will reachthe Lighthouse by lunch time.But that did not what impressedher as she stood looking down into the Bay, was that having gone onthis little expedition, his he became at once (as an all the weight ofher sympathy still made her mind rest on Mr. Ramsay)set rounded & completed, & part of the eternal nature of things.Mrs. Ramsay was that now.[She turned to her easel with a sigh.]As Mr. Carmichael clawed up his book from the grasp,grass, with a gasping grunt which susg suggestedinfinite contentment

"Stretch out a hand & theres a book" he seemed to say.And hestretched outAnd there was a book; & he settled into it.But no,as for her& he ?snugglehe spread it out & settled into it.Otherwise, there wasno movement, no sound or sign of life was all veryquietThey must be up, out of bed; but nobody appeared at the window.they mustThey used to make off; directly a meal was done, to their owndevices.But it was all right, like that; all in keepingwith theunrealearly morning hour.One only said "unreal" because,as if people were not speaking; were not running violentlyinto each other, with & making all those odd violent noiseswhich after such collisions they do make.Images came to her,