"(...) overcome with shame suddenly at having been a fool; wept; been emotional; told her everything, as usual, as usual.
Where there is nothing, Peter Walsh said to himself; feeling hollowed out, utterly empty within. Clarissa refused me, he thought. He stood there thinking, Clarissa refused me.
(e aí lá no fim do livro...)
What is this terror? What is this ecstasy? he thought to himself. What is that fills me with extraordinary excitement?
It is Clarissa, he said.
For there she was."
Virginia Woolf, Miss Dalloway