The house was left; the house was deserted. It was left like a shell on a sandhill to fill with dry salt grains now that life had left it. The long life seemed to have set in; the trifling airs, nibbling, the clammy breaths, fumbling, seemed to have triumphed...

Virginia Woolf
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The house was left; the house was deserted. It was left like a shell on a sandhill to fill with dry salt grains now that life had left it. The long life seemed to have set in; the trifling airs, nibbling, the clammy breaths, fumbling, seemed to have triumphed. ..

The house suddenly seemed empty and lonely, as if it were waiting for someone. It was as if a long life had suddenly been snuffed out before its time, as if this house had been suddenly abandoned by the soul that had once lived there.

Source: To The Lighthouse

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