the most abject treachery

"So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say. But to sacrifice a hair of the head of your vision, a shade of its colour, in deference to some Headmaster with a silver pot in his hand or to some professor with a measuring-rod up his sleeve, is the most abject treachery."
Virginia Woolf

it's her birthday, today.

and the sun is out, if only for a few hours. I've swept and vacuumed and wiped things down and opened the one window that opens in this house. I love it grey and cold, but it does get stuffy in here.