190111Yet to feel nothing whateverbecause it was so peaceful perhaps. But it was uncomfortablerather than painful But it was not painful to her, onlyextremely uncomfortable, & yet suppose that all one's life one hadlived in a dream, & this was true, one could not help beingbeenLily Briscoe thought, putting her empty cup down again, as ?Mr.Ramsay had passed on.At any rate, she thought, looking aboutround the at an engraving on the wall opposite, one must take one'sit wd be aswell to find outwhat thetruth is â€”chance always of finding out; however unpleasant it is,& she figured herself as a rider being thrown up into the air.by the kicks & plunges of an unruly horse, with a back like asharp knife board.What is it?" she asked herself again,as if she with an odd feeling that she had very nearly laid holdor almostupon something of the highest importance â€” actually had grasped?getsomething — likea white wavcrested waveamong greenwav the usualgreen waveswhat people call "the meaning of life" which, once laid hold of,would something that intensity of understanding which relateseverything together: so that it was all right â€” the misery, thescolding â€” these eternal questions which, what everything that&happened now seemed to set banging & swinging inside her.Oh, NancyIs it in the sideagain w hunting for something in a cupboard the sideboard,& carrying on a conversation with someone inside, about itsbeing there, or being somewhere else

What does one take to the Lighthouse, indeed?or in the cupboard on the landing? Nancy was saying.on the stairs, & Lily thought, That she said much rather likeMrs. Ramsay" â€” Why don't I feel more? she wondered. It wasThere, in that emptyShe sat there; she was she thought. Now she is dead.But nothing happened.Then it must simply be a game ofthere she satThereshe satthereshe repeatedwaiting for herfeeling to well up.chance, she said.(all she had tags in her mind) but shewould use them until she disformed better shorter words) All"see people"We come & go — We just say things: or, sometimes, — (this is very oddshe thought) although we know we have only seen we dont "see people"for months. Then they're dead. We don't "see them" —
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