192115 to protect herself, to give give herself a chance of going onthinking finding out what it was all about, why it was(we perishedeach alone)all so queer, to give her eyes a chance of reading theselarge plain letters in which everything seemed now written;seemedEverything was a symbol.The anger Nancy bursting in withflinging offher "What does one send to the Lighthouse?", Mr. Ramsayrecitingflinging off. marching up. down. Mr. Carmichael coming insoftly, mu bumblingly, taking his coffee, taking his toast &making off to eat it in the sun. Its The extraordinaryShe must collectthese symbols.of everything,of itunreality was frightening, but fascinating.And her lack ofnormal?aboutany feeling at all — that was so strange, considering that sheought to be thinking of Mrs. Ramsay all the time, how she hadbut it was plainloved Mrs. Ramsay; & her sense as she sat alone at the& she was dead;long table of having the truth made visible inthe truthwasbeing written up — the staring unmistakable truth — how there isnothing (she seemed to be reading thisthatthings were just likeso that until she hadthatsaid the words) thingsit she felt nothing whatever —& they they were too odd, too unrelated, for one toshe did not knowwhat she wasgoing to say —to be able to use the old sayings anymore so tocatch them, to coop them. ?N Mrs. Ramsay? — who was she?A dead woman. This was her home & though; & Aa presence, what was that? A voice on the stairs.some one passing the window. She felt nothing: yetpersonal; but was awed; A revelation was taking place.Was there then some thing they these things made, moresome one coming in & going out — She had her hands on some anextraordinary discovery, of life in its naked, pure; unalloyedextraordinary. random& ?sealed,such was life,?whenwith the sentiments & trif wrappings up &trivialities of its such it was; & She had her handson some discovery. & — But what which exaltedbutterrible, amazing strange.She looked at Mr. Ramsay. Only if Mr
