Stumbling Along a Passage One Dark Morning

Mr. Ramsay, stumbling along a passage one dark morning, stretched his arms out, but Mrs. Ramsay having died rather suddenly the night before, his arms, though stretched out, remained empty.1

Odd though it may seem, this passage for me has always embodied one of the core parts of love: the ever-presence of another, whose absence is therefore so acutely felt.

  1. Virginia Woolf : To The Lighthouse : Time Passes : 3