“The gas fire? But it was too late now. Holmes was coming. Razors he might have got [...]. There remained only the window, the large Bloomsbury lodging-house window; the tiresome, the troublesome, and rather melodramatic business of opening the window and throwing himself out. […] But he would wait till the very last moment. He did not want to die. Life was good. The sun hot.”
Virginia Woolf (1882-1941). Mrs. Dalloway (1925). London: Penguin Books, 1996, p. 164
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