What a charming character Orlando is.  He speaks to my soul.  He resembles me…Orlando…

He was careful to avoid meeting anyone.  There was Stubbs, the gardener, coming along the path.  He hid behind a tree till he had passed.  He let himself out at a little gate in the garden wall.  he skirted all stables, kennels, breweries, carpenters’ shops, wash-houses, places where they make tallow candles, kill oxen, forge horse-shoes, stitch jerkins – for the house was a town ringing with men at work at their various crafts – and gained the ferny path leading uphill through the park unseen.  There is perhaps a kinship among qualities; one draws another along with it; and the biographer should here call attention to the fact that this clumsiness is often mated with a love of solitude.  Having stumbled over a chest, Orlando naturally loved solitary places, vast views, and to feel himself for ever and ever and ever alone.

Orlando, chapter 1, Virginia Woolf.