- All's Well That Ends Well
- Antony and Cleopatra
- As You Like It
- The Comedy of Errors
- Coriolanus
- Cymbeline
- Hamlet
- Henry IV, Part 1
- Henry IV, Part 2
- Henry V
- Henry VI, Part 1
- Henry VI, Part 2
- Henry VI, Part 3
- Henry VIII
- Julius Caesar
- King John
- King Lear
- Love's Labor's Lost
- A Lover's Complaint
- Macbeth
- Measure for Measure
- The Merchant of Venice
- The Merry Wives of Windsor
- A Midsummer Night's Dream
- Much Ado About Nothing
- Othello
- Pericles
- The Rape of Lucrece
- Richard II
- Richard III
- Romeo and Juliet
- Shakespeare's Sonnets
- The Taming of the Shrew
- The Tempest
- Timon of Athens
- Titus Andronicus
- Troilus and Cressida
- Twelfth Night
- The Two Gentlemen of Verona
- Venus and Adonis
- The Winter's Tale
This quote occurs during Orlando’s relationship with Sasha, in which he falls inexplicably into a deep depression, which the narrator later claims is a direct result of Orlando’s identity as a poet. Throughout the novel, Orlando falls into many “moods of melancholy,” of which there is, at times, no precursor or perceptible cause. Woolf, too, struggled with depression and melancholy for much of her life. She was hospitalized for prolonged periods of time for what she and her family described as her “madness,” and she twice attempted suicide before finally succeeding with her third attempt at the age of 59…