42 Quotes About Marcel-proust

Eventually... for me by the time you're 25 or so, you just start running out of shit to do. Books to read... people to meet. I was too chicken to be an "entrepreneur" in college and I wish that back then someone told me... stressed to me, that if you score above a certain percentile on the SAT.... you just won't be running into too many people... who have the credibility to tell you what to do. And they say I can't Drink anymore, either. So now... what?

If only I could value myself more! Alas! It is impossible.

Friends afford us a change to express our deepest selves, and that the conversations we have with them are a privileged forum in which to say what we really think and, by extension and with no mystical allusion, be who we really are.

L'amour commence, on voudrait rester pour celle qu'on aime l'inconnu qu'elle peut aimer mais on a besoin d'elle, on a besoin de toucher moins son corps que son attention, son coeur.

Love? I make it often, but I never talk about it.

Ogni mediazione proietta un suo miraggio; i miraggi si susseguono come altrettante "verità" che subentrino alle verità anteriori come una vera e propria uccisione del ricordo vivente e si proteggano dalle verità future con una censura implacabile dell'esperienza quotidiana. Marcel Proust chiama "Io" i "mondi" proiettati dalle successive mediazioni. Gli Io sono perfettamente isolati gli uni dagli altri, incapaci di rammentarsi degli Io passati o di presagire gli Io futuri.

Many years have passed since that night. The wall of the staircase up which I had watched the light of his candle gradually climb was long ago demolished. And in myself, too, many things have perished which I imagined would last for ever, and new ones have arisen, giving birth to new sorrows and new joys which in those days I could not have foreseen, just as now the old are hard to understand.

The truth is that as we grow older we kill all those who love us by the cares we give them, by the anxious tenderness we inspire in them and constantly arouse.

There is an inanimate object which has a capacity to exasperate which no human being will ever attain: a piano.