The courage of one’s opinions is always a form of calculating cowardice in the eyes of the other side.
MARCEL PROUSTThe bonds that unite us to another human being are sanctified when he or she adopts the same point of view as ourselves in judging one of our imperfections.
More Marcel Proust Quotes
-
-
No man is a complete mystery except to himself.
MARCEL PROUST -
A photograph acquires something of the dignity which it ordinarily lacks when it ceases to be a reproduction of reality and shows us things that no longer exist.
MARCEL PROUST -
Desire makes everything blossom; possession makes everything wither and fade.
MARCEL PROUST -
We don’t receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us or spare us.
MARCEL PROUST -
Desire makes everything blossom.
MARCEL PROUST -
We are healed of a suffering only by experiencing it to the full.
MARCEL PROUST -
The bonds that unite us to another human being are sanctified when he or she adopts the same point of view as ourselves in judging one of our imperfections.
MARCEL PROUST -
To write that essential book, a great writer does not need to invent it but merely to translate it, since it already exists in each one of us. The duty and task of a writer are those of translator.
MARCEL PROUST -
Let us be grateful to people who make us happy.
MARCEL PROUST -
It has been said that beauty is a promise of happiness. Conversely, the possibility of pleasure can be a beginning of beauty.
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 -
A picture’s beauty does not depend on the things portrayed in it.
MARCEL PROUST -
Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.
MARCEL PROUST -
It is not because other people are dead that our affection for them grows faint, it is because we ourselves are dying.
MARCEL PROUST -
Your soul is a dark forest. But the trees are of a particular species, they are genealogical trees.
MARCEL PROUST