Jun 3, 2024
For our worst fears, like our greatest hopes, are not outside our powers, and we can come in the end to triumph over the former and to achieve the latter.
from In Search of Lost Time, Book 7: Finding Time Again by Marcel Proust
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For our worst fears, like our greatest hopes, are not outside our powers, and we can come in the end to triumph over the former and to achieve the latter.
from In Search of Lost Time, Book 7: Finding Time Again by Marcel Proust
The whole art of living is to use the people who make us suffer simply as steps enabling us to obtain access to their divine form and thus joyfully to people our lives with divinities.
from In Search of Lost Time, Book 7: Finding Time Again by Marcel Proust
The essential book, the only true book, was not something the writer needs to invent, in the usual sense of the word, so much as to translate, because it already exists within each of us. The writer's task and duty those of a translator.
from In Search of Lost Time, Book 7: Finding Time Again by Marcel Proust
An hour is not just an hour, it is a vessel full of perfumes, sounds, plans and atmospheres. What we call reality is a certain relationship between these sensations and the memories which surround us simultaneously.
from In Search of Lost Time, Book 7: Finding Time Again by Marcel Proust
The only true paradise is a paradise that we have lost.
from In Search of Lost Time, Book 7: Finding Time Again by Marcel Proust
But sometimes it is just when everything seems to be lost that we experience a presentiment that may save us; one has knocked on all the doors which lead nowhere, and then, unwittingly, one pushes against the only one through which one may enter and for which one would have searched in vain for a hundred years, and it opens.
from In Search of Lost Time, Book 7: Finding Time Again by Marcel Proust
Finding Time Again (1927)
Marcel Proust
Allen Lane
There is nothing more limited than pleasure and vice. In that sense, changing the meaning of the phrase slightly, it can truly be said that we are always going around in the same vicious circle.
from In Search of Lost Time, Book 7: Finding Time Again by Marcel Proust