This item is
Publicly Available
and licensed under:
Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)

 Files for this item

 Download all local files for this item (848.26 KB)

Icon
Name
WoolfWaves-1658.txt
Size
420.39 KB
Format
Text file
Description
Version of the work in plain text format
 Download file  Preview
 File Preview  
<TEI.2>
<teiHeader>
<filedesc>
<titleStmt>
<title type="245">Virginia Woolf's The Waves</title> 
<author>Woolf, Virginia</author>
</titleStmt>
<publicationStmt>
<distributor>Oxford Text Archive</distributor>
<idno>WoolfWaves</idno> 
<availability><p>Available to University of Michigan faculty, staff, and students
through UMLibText.  Also available from the Oxford Text Archive.</availability>
<date>February 1995</date></publicationStmt>
<sourceDesc>
<biblfull>
<titleStmt>
<title>The Waves</title> 
<author>Woolf, Virginia</author>
</titleStmt>
<publicationStmt>
<publisher> The Hogarth Press,</publisher><pubplace>London</pubplace>
<date>1955</date></publicationStmt>
</biblfull>
</sourceDesc>
</filedesc>
<profileDesc><creation><date>1930-1931</date></creation>
</profileDesc>
<revisionDesc>
<change><date>February 1995</date><respStmt><name>Jeff Chisa</name><resp>Humanities Text Initiative</resp><item>Changed tagging to make text parsable</item>
</revisionDesc>
</teiHeader>
<text> 
<body> 
< . . .
										
Icon
Name
woowave-1658.txt
Size
427.87 KB
Format
Text file
Description
Version of the work in plain text format
 Download file  Preview
 File Preview  
<Text id=WooWave> 
<Author>Woolf, Virginia</Author> 
<Title>The Waves</Title> 
<Edition>London: The Hogarth Press, 1955</Edition> 
<Date>1930-1931</Date> 
<body> 
<div0>
<loc><locdoc>WooWave5</locdoc><milestone n=5> 
The sun had not yet risen.  The sea was indistinguishable from 
the sky, except that the sea was slightly creased as if a cloth had 
wrinkles in it.  Gradually as the sky whitened a dark line lay 
on the horizon dividing the sea from the sky and the grey cloth 
became barred with thick strokes moving, one after another, beneath 
the surface, following each other, pursuing each other, perpetually. 
<p> As they neared the shore each bar rose, heaped itself, broke and 
swept a thin veil of white water across the sand.  The wave paused, 
and then drew out again, sighing like a sleeper whose breath comes 
and goes unconsciously.  Gradually the dark bar on the horizon 
became clear as if the sediment in an old wine-bottle had sunk 
and left the glass green.  Behind it, too, the . . .