“‘The sky is blue,’ he said, ‘the grass is green.’ Looking up, he saw that, on the contrary, the sky is like the veils which a thousand Madonnas have let fall from their hair; and the grass fleets and darkens like a flight of girls fleeing the embraces of hairy satyrs from enchanted woods. ‘Upon my word,’ he said . . . ‘I don’t see that one’s more true than another. Both are utterly false.’”

—Virginia Wolfe, from Orlando, 1928.