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Marcel Proust

    Jan Nohas quotedlast year
    Perhaps the immobility of the things that surround us is forced upon them by our conviction that they are themselves, and not anything else, and by the immobility of our conceptions of them.
    Rosy Antuñanohas quoted2 years ago
    I was by no means Bergotte's sole admirer
    Rosy Antuñanohas quoted2 years ago
    I felt that I had with an impious and secret finger traced a first wrinkle upon her soul and made the first white hair shew upon her head.
    Rosy Antuñanohas quoted2 years ago
    And my grandmother had bought them in preference to other books, just as she would have preferred to take a house that had a gothic dovecot, or some other such piece of antiquity as would have a pleasant effect on the mind, filling it with a nostalgic longing for impossible journeys through the realms of time
    Rosy Antuñanohas quoted2 years ago
    filling it with a nostalgic longing for impossible journeys through the realms of time
    Rosy Antuñanohas quoted2 years ago
    My agony was soothed; I let myself be borne upon the current of this gentle night on which I had my mother by my side
    Rosy Antuñanohas quoted2 years ago
    And so it is with our own past. It is a labour in vain to attempt to recapture it: all the efforts of our intellect must prove futile. The past is hidden somewhere outside the realm, beyond the reach of intellect, in some material object (in the sensation which that material object will give us) which we do not suspect. And as for that object, it depends on chance whether we come upon it or not before we ourselves must die
    Rosy Antuñanohas quoted2 years ago
    An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, but individual, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory--this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence
    Rosy Antuñanohas quoted2 years ago
    She sent out for one of those short, plump little cakes called 'petites madeleines,' which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted scallop of a pilgrim's shell
    Rosy Antuñanohas quoted2 years ago
    No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate than a shudder ran through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place. An exquisite pleasure had invaded
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