One's personality seems to echo out across space, when he's not there to enclose all one's vibrations. This is not very intelligibly written; but the feeling itself is a strange one--as if marriage were a completing of the instrument, and the sound of one alone penetrates as it if were a violin robbed of its orchestra or piano.
-Virginia Woolf, Diary, Friday 2 November 1917
A Moment's Liberty: The Shorter Diary of Virginina Woolf. Anne Olivier Bell, Ed.