This article brings together numerous references to Virginia Woolf's feelings and thoughts about Freud, psychoanalysis, and psychoanalysts. She made uninformed, deprecating remarks about Freud in the early 1920s, but a decade later greatly admired and respected his genius. Despite being part owner of the Hogarth Press, Woolf read almost none of Freud's work until after she met him in 1939, nine months before his death and less than two years before her suicide.

Woolf's unhappy experiences with Harley Street neuropsychiatrists may have contributed to her marked ambivalence toward the analysts she knew personally: her brother, Adrian Stephen, his wife, Karin, and the Stracheys, James and Alix. Her resistance to psychoanalysis was perhaps mostly a case of such familiarity breeding contempt. She knew very little about clinical psychoanalysis; it was probably never indicated for her when available, and it was almost certainly never recommended for her.