Or is the true self neither this nor that, but something so varied and wandering that it is only when we give the rein to its wishes and let it takes its way unimpeded that we are indeed ourselves? Circumstances compel unity; for convenience’ sake a man must be a whole. The good citizen when he opens hIs door in the evening must be a banker, golfer, husband, father; not a nomad wandering the desert, a mystic staring at the sky, a debauchee in the slums of San Francisco, a soldier heading a revolution, a pariah howling with scepticism and solitude.
Virginia Woolf, Street Haunting: A London Adventure, The Westgate Press, 1930 (1927)
But of course we are all these others. These early Virginia Woolf essays are darkly exquisite, and appear so very modern.