Reality is never more than a first step towards an unknown on the road to which one can never progress very far.
MARCEL PROUSTAn hour is not merely an hour, it is a vase full of scents and sounds and projects and climates.
More Marcel Proust Quotes
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We do not receive wisdom, we must discover it for ourselves, after a journey through the wilderness which no one else can make for us, which no one can spare us, for our wisdom is the point of view from which we come at last to regard the world.
MARCEL PROUST -
There comes in all our lives a time, when the ears can listen to no music save what the moonlight breathes through the flute of silence.
MARCEL PROUST -
Even though our lives wander, our memories remain in one place.
MARCEL PROUST -
When you work to please others you can’t succeed, but the things you do to satisfy yourself stand a chance of catching someone’s interest.
MARCEL PROUST -
We must never be afraid to go too far, for truth lies beyond.
MARCEL PROUST -
Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.
MARCEL PROUST -
The bonds that unite another person to our self exist only in our mind.
MARCEL PROUST -
You can’t learn the truth about a man’s intentions by asking him.
MARCEL PROUST -
If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time.
MARCEL PROUST -
Love is a striking example of how little reality means to us.
MARCEL PROUST -
When from a long distant past nothing subsists after the things are broken and scattered, the smell and taste of things remain.
MARCEL PROUST -
The highest praise of God consists in the denial of him by the atheist who finds creation so perfect that it can dispense with a creator.
MARCEL PROUST -
Everything great in the world comes from neurotics. They alone have founded our religions and composed our masterpieces.
MARCEL PROUST -
Instead of seeking new landscapes, develop new eyes.
MARCEL PROUST -
In a separation it is the one who is not really in love who says the more tender things.
MARCEL PROUST






